LOS ANGELES
by SANDEFUR
Summary: A crossover between Joan of Arcadia, "24" and Moonlight.
1. Chapter 1

LOS ANGELES

by

SANDEFUR

Disclaimer: This is fanfiction just for fun. I have no claims.

From the diary of Helen Girardi, 6-16-07…

Joan is finally off on vacation with an official sanction from God. I'm so glad because I've been terribly worried about my eldest daughter. Her workload at college has been grueling, and her many assignments from God never seem to ease. I've never seen Joan so stressed, and obviously near the breaking point. I wish I could do more to help, but Eleanor dominates out lives now. Hopefully, the next six weeks of summer vacation—without assignments—will give Joan the recharge she needs.

X X X X X

At the huge LAX airport, Joan Girardi waits patiently at the luggage carousel for the appearance of her bags. A buzz from her cell phone alerts her to an in-coming text…

'Running 20 minutes late. Sorry. Kev.'

Joan shrugs and looks around at the varied crowd of visitors from around the world. Potentially, you could meet anyone here, but Joan smiles as she recognizes a familiar face not far away…

"Ms Lishack? Is that really you?"

Lishack, holding her toddler daughter turns and smiles at Joan. "Joan Girardi, what an amazing coincidence seeing you here in L. A."

"I was thinking the same thing. Hello Emily, do you remember me?" Joan asks.

In response, Emily buries her nose in Lishack's bosom. Lishack laughs. "Sorry about that Joan. Emily has hit that super shy stage. It's hard to believe only a couple of months ago every new person was her new best friend."

"Well, she's adorable. How old is she now?"

"Seventeen months. Emily and I are here to spend the summer with Dana."

"How is Mr. Tuchman?"

"Quite well. He recently inherited his aunt's home in Pasadena—the dear old lady passed away after a long illness. Dana's need to be near her kept him from having much father/daughter time with Emily. We plan to make up for that this summer."

"Is he picking you up?"

"Yes, I just got a text message he is on his way from the parking lot. What about you? What brings you to Los Angeles, Joan?"

"Summer vacation. My brother Kevin is an associate producer on a show called 'Improper', and he is financing a much needed rest for yours truly."

"Ah, it sounds like college burnout has hit right on schedule. Don't let it get you down, Joan. You'll be amazed how just a few weeks of rest will prepare you for the challenges of the coming semester."

"I hope so. I've managed to maintain good grades so far, but the work is a lot harder than I expected. I'm really looking forward to working on my tan and vegging out this summer."

"Well, good luck with that. Don't forget to enjoy some of the more popular tourist attractions. For instance, we plan to go to Disneyland this week to see Mickey Mouse."

At the mention of this name, little Emily raises her head and asks in her tiny voice, "Mickey?"

"Yes sweetheart, you, me and Daddy will be seeing Mickey in a few days."

Emily smiles, until she notices Joan's interest. Quickly, she returns her face to her mother's bosom.

"Sorry Joan, it takes her awhile to get use to people. When we're out, Emily spends half her time with her nose buried in my cleaveage."

"Yeah, I've had dates like that."

Lishack laughs. "Would you like to join us at the front entrance? I'm sure Dana would love a chance to see you again."

"Sorry, I'd like to, but my bags haven't shown up yet."

"Well, here's my number…and if you would like to join us for lunch, or accompany us to Disneyland, you are more than welcome. Oh, the three of us also plan to attend a reunion concert by my favorite 80's band at Dodger Stadium, a week from today. If that would interest you more?"

"I'll keep it in mind, and give you a call. It was nice seeing you again, Ms Lishack."

"You too, Joan. Wave goodbye, Emily."

As Lishack walks away, Emily briefly raises her head and gives Joan a tiny wave. Joan sighs as the adorably cute child is lost from view in the milling crowd. Someday, sadly not very soon, she will have a child of her own. That basic biological imperative stirs within her on a regular basis. Still, it might help if she had a boyfriend to help matters along. This circumstances-imposed virginity of hers is beginning to wear thin on Joan's nerves. It was time. Heck, at 19, it was overdue. Joan muses on the idea that she will soon be reuniting with her extremely sexy ex-boyfriend, Dylan Hunter. Technically, she and Adam were still an official couple, but they haven't seen each other in nearly a year. Plus, while Adam has been at Berekley, they have had an agreement to date other people. So, if she wants, she and Dylan…

Joan's thoughts are interrupted by an intense moment of spiritual distress. Although she hasn't been taking a 'read' on the crowd, someone nearby is setting off alarming vibrations. Joan scans the crowd, expecting to find a demon, or more likely, a demon possessed person. A man around forty, strongly built and fierce in appearance, walks by. He isn't demon possessed, but he doesn't need to be. Human beings were quite capable of intense, destructive personalities all on their own. This man, with the military style crew cut, is such a being. His soul is consumed with rage, revenge and violence. Joan shivers from the intensity of this man's potential for destruction.

Joan automatically follows, looking for airport security. She has nothing specific she can report, but her every instinct says spread a warning about this danger. It doesn't take Joan long to spot an L.A.P.D. sergeant with a SWAT marker on his bulletproof vest. She approaches, and notices his nametag says, Sullivan.

"Excuse me, Sergeant."

"May I help you, Miss?"

"I'm…just not sure. I don't want to cause an unnecessary fuss, but I thought I should tell someone of what I suspect."

"You've spotted a problem?"

"Well, I'm not certain. You see that man over there in the blue jeans and army fatigue jacket…?"

"Yes."

"Well, a few moments ago we happen to brush by each other, and I could swear I felt something hard and…metallic under his jacket."

"Like a gun?"

Joan gives Sgt. Sullivan a look of sweet innocence before replying, "I could be wrong. I probably am, but I thought it best to say something, what with the world being the way it is these days."

Sullivan takes in Joan's look of lovely innocence, and is moved by a protective instinct, with just a touch of sexual interest. Quickly, he suppresses that thought. He's a happily married man. Still, the urge to accommodate this beautiful young woman was very strong…

"Okay, I'll check it out. Thank you, Miss."

"Just doing my duty." Joan says as she walks away. Okay, she probably shouldn't have lied about the non-existent gun, but someone needed to take action, and she is on vacation!

Sgt. Sullivan follows the man in the fatigue jacket, noting that this is a potential source of trouble - obviously ex-military, and with an attitude that won't quit. Sullivan berates himself for not noticing the man himself. The sergeant radios the three other men assigned to him as to where and what he is doing. Slowly, subtly, they begin to close in on the target. Technically, the four of them were there to back up a couple of Homeland Security agents, but there was nothing for any of them to do. The arriving person-of–interest is simply to be followed. No one expects trouble from her, but this guy…

As the suspect gets to a relatively open area where he can review the arrival boards, he notices for the first time the police officers closing in on his position. He reacts quickly. The man runs for the nearest exit, knocking people down as he goes. The four cops pursue, shouting the traditional warnings of 'Freeze' and 'Hold it'! The chase is brief, for the crowd is just too thick to make a run through. The suspect is tackled by Sullivan, who quickly handcuffs the incredibly strong man. He screams obscenities at them. Just as the cops are dragging the suspect to his feet, one of the federal agents, a young Asian-American man named David Chung, arrives looking annoyed.

"Sullivan, what the hell? You were suppose to remain quietly in the background unless we signaled you. And who is this clown?"

"I'm not sure. I got a tip this guy might be carrying a gun."

Sullivan looks to one of his men who has just completed a pat down. The other cop shakes his head 'no'.

"Looks like your tip was wrong. Who are you Mister, and why did you run?" Chung asks.

The man sullenly replies, "I-I got post-traumatic distress syndrome, from my time in the service. When I saw all of those uniforms suddenly closing in on me…" (The man shudders.) "I just panicked. I couldn't help it. My medication doesn't always control the stress."

One of the other cops examines the suspect's I.D. "Got a V. A. card here in the name of William Brown."

Chung groans and turns on Sullivan. "Let this man go, and get back to your posts. Fortunately, our target hasn't departed her plane yet. And I wiil be making a report of this to your watch commander."

Sullivan moans his dismay as he reaches for his handcuffs key. That's what he gets for relying on small head thinking. Before the suspect can be released, another and considerably older federal agent joins the group.

"Chung, what's this all about? Can't an old man enjoy a quiet moment with a cup of coffee?"

"Sorry sir, a case of mistaken identity. We're releasing this man with our apologies."

The older agent approaches the suspect and examines him carefully. "That might not be such a good idea. Do you know who you have here? This is Hobart Smith, and he's on the top ten most wanted list."

X X X X X

In the home-slash-office of Mick St. John, he is playing host to his best friend, Josef Kostan. Both men appear to be around thirty, but Mick is over 80, and Josef is more than 400 years old.

"I hate to rush you Josef, but you need to drink up and go."

"Why the bum's rush, old friend?" Josef asks as he drains the last of the blood from his wineglass. "Mick...how can you drink this old stuff?"

"I like to think of the A-positive I get from the morgue as being like aged beef. At least I think I used to like aged beef. Besides, you never turn it down."

"Just trying to be polite, and as for the taste of beef, aged or otherwise...? I don't remember. After four centuries, I've forgotten what food tastes like. Except for honey. I definitely remember liking honey. Sadly, the closest I can come to that now is the blood of a diabetic... So, are you expecting a hot date?"

"A client."

"On a Saturday afternoon? Really Mick, you're letting this quaint little detective hobby take over your life. Blow off this client and come to tonight's party. I promise you first pick of the freshies."

"A generous offer, but I take my 'quaint' business seriously. Maybe next Saturday? I assume there will be another one then?"

"Why break a century long tradition?"

The doorbell rings. Quickly, Mick hides his and Josef's glasses and the wine bottle filled with blood behind a secret panel.

"Remember, you're just leaving, and be on your best behavior."

"Spoil sport."

Mick uses an electronic clicker to open the heavily reinforced door that leads to his home. A young couple cautiously enters. He is tall and muscular while she is beautiful with honey blonde hair. They pause to take in the luxurious loft apartment, which is located in an old office building in the near downtown area. The upper floors have been converted into expensive condos.

"Mr. St. John?" the blonde asks, looking back and forth between the two men.

"At your service...Stevie Marx? And this is my friend Josef Kostan, who was just leaving."

"And this is my boyfriend, Dylan Hunter. He came along for moral support. I hope that's okay?"

"Certainly. Many clients feel the need for an arm to lean on."

Josef says, "Mick, I'll leave you to your business."

As Josef heads for the door, Stevie says, "Wait. Josef Kostan, the billionaire?"

"That's not exactly how my business card reads. How do you happen to know a humble businessman like myself?" Josef asks with an edge to his voice.

"I'm a business major, and one of my assignments was to profile one of today's rapidly rising business leaders. Your success as a hedge fund manager is legendary, especially for one so young. Oddly, I could never find a file photo of you."

"I've always been camera shy." Josef says with a smile. As a vampire, traditional film could not capture his image. Only the recent advent of digital cameras made vampire photography possible.

Dylan comments, "Now I remember your name..."

"Oh, are you a business major too?"

"No sir, pre-med. You recently donated a million dollars to a non-profit lab doing research into blood diseases."

"A long time interest of mine. Now if you'll excuse me, I must run. I'm hosting a party this evening."

Josef exits, and Mick waves his two visitors toward the chairs in front of his desk in the office area of his home.

"You have an interesting choice in friends." Dylan comments, recalling some of the dark rumors hinted at in tabloid papers about Josef Kostan.

"Yes, Joesf is quite an original. We've been friends for...years. Now, Miss Marx, how may I help you?"

Stevie hesitates, organizing her thoughts. "I'm going to have to go back a long way in order to explain my problem. When I was two, I was kidnapped by a woman named Alice Sokel..."

"Kidnapped as a child?"

(Dylan takes note of St. John's strong reaction. Apparently this strikes a nerve with the detective.)

Stevie continues, "It was done for my own good. You see, my natural mother was a drug addict who abused and neglected me. The social worker on my case, knowing the courts would not act in my favor, took me in order to save my life. 'Alice' adopted the names Erica and Stevie for us, and later married a man named Charlie Marx, who thought I was Erica's adopted daughter. I have always considered these two wonderful people my true parents."

"When did you learn the truth?"

"Over two years ago. I was living in Arcadia Maryland, and a dispute over my social security number led to the truth coming out. Mom plea bargained, and got a three year sentence on a single count of interstate flight to avoid prosecution. The minimum security facility she was sent to is here in southern California. Dad had a business opportunity out here, and so we were able to move to L. A. to be close to Mom."

"This is an interesting story Miss Marx, but where do I come in?"

Stevie begins to tremble with emotion. "A little over a year ago, prison officials notified Dad and me that Mom died of a sudden heart attack. Without notification or permission, they had her body cremated. The prison apologized for the error, but there was nothing that could be done. A few days later, on the way home from the internment ceremony..."

Stevie begins to weep. Dylan takes her into his arms until she calms down. Dylan says, "There was a car wreck, and Charlie Marx died."

"I'm sorry for your loss, both of them, but again, what do you want me to do?"

Stevie removes a letter from her bag and hands it to Mick. "This came in yesterday's mail."

Mick takes the letter and reads aloud... "Miss Marx, I am sorry I had to wait so long to contact you, but the prison monitors all mail and phone calls. I was only just released, and my conscience compels me to send this letter. I can't afford any more trouble with the feds, so I won't sign this note. On the night your mother supposedly died of a heart attack, I secretly saw her being escorted out of our cell block by a couple of federal agents. Erica walked out under her own power, and in apparent good health. I don't know what this is all about, but now you know the truth, and I will finally be able to sleep at night. A Friend."

Mick folds the letter and puts it on his desk.

Stevie says, "As you can imagine, I'm stunned by this news."

"And you want me to help find your mother?"

"No, my Mom is dead...she has to be. The alternative is too impossible to think about. I want you to find 'A Friend' so I can confront her. I have to know why she is telling this cruel lie."

Mick hesitates as he listens to Stevie's heartbeat. She isn't being fully honest. "I think, in your head, you don't believe this strange note, but in your heart, you desperately want it to be true. Deep down, you feel that Erica Marx is alive..."

X X X X X

At the Los Angeles branch of the Counter Terrorism Unit of Homeland Security, Senior-Agent-In-Charge Jack Bauer is being briefed by the two agents from the airport. Agent Saul King, in his 50's and only two years from retirement, is an old friend of Bauer's. His 26 year old partner is David Chung (and the victim of someone's warped sense of humor in the personnel department).

"Run that by me again. Hobart Smith, wanted felon and the leader of the Brotherhood of American Blood, returns to this country for the first time in two years and wanders all over LAX unrecognized?"

Chung responds, "He made an effort to disguise himself: shorter hair of a different color, a mustache, glasses..."

King adds, "The fact is, we just got lucky. A SWAT sergeant got an anonymous tip that our bad guy might be carrying a gun. It wasn't true, but we lucked into a major breakthrough in Operation Pureblood."

"Except in the confusion of the arrest, you two lost the woman you were suppose to follow. Now the `martyr's widow' is out there somewhere, involved in who knows what."

King says, "This is the first time Brenda Smith has left the northwest in a decade. Both her and Hobart Smith appearing at LAX at the same time can't be a coincidence."

Chung asks, "I thought Brenda Smith wasn't involved in the day-to-day activities of the Brotherhood?"

Bauer replies, "Up until now she's been exclusively their propaganda queen. She recruits new members with her sad tale of how her innocent husband was brutally murdered by thuggish federal agents."

Chung hotly retorts, "The official story is that Leon Smith was a drug dealer who was killed while resisting arrest."

Bauer gives Chung a pitying look. "Yeah, the 'offical' story."

King adds, "With both of the Smiths in town, and with the reports we've been getting of Brotherhood members slipping into the L. A. area, they must be planning something very big and very bloody."

Bauer nods. "At least we have Hobart Smith to interrogate, thanks to our anonymous tipster..."

X X X X X

"Your sister is weird." Barbara Greyson whispers as she rests in the arms of her beloved.

Kevin whispers back, "I warned you Joan can be odd."

Barbara shifts in bed so she can see Kevin's face. The room is dark, but just enough light filters in from the window to dimly see each other. "'Odd' doesn't begin to cover it. The attitude she has about your new baby sister is appalling."

"Well, it was quite a shock learning Mom and Dad were having another kid. I know I freaked out about it."

"Okay, I of all people understand that. I've got five younger half-brothers, and everyone of them, except Dylan, was a major adjustment. But when they were babies, I never announced I had a hunch that one of them was going to grow up to be trouble. What's that about?"

"Joan's instincts. I know a lot of her ideas seem to be way out there...but sometimes she's right."

"Like with my step uncle?"

Kevin nods. "Joan proclaimed for nearly a year that Ryan Hunter was evil while all of Arcadia thought he was a great guy. We were so concerned about 'crazy' Joan, the family considered having her commited. Fortunately she stuck it out until Ryan was brought down. Her instincts were right."

"So you believe Joan about little Eleanor?"

"I'm...reserving judgement. It will be years before we know how Eleanor will turn out, but in the mean time, I'll keep Joan's warning in mind. Remember, we promised Joan we would keep this secret."

"Like I'd want to start that conversation with Helen. She already hates me for 'stealing' you from Lily."

"My Mom doesn't hate you. It's just that she was close friends with Lily, and when the two of us broke up, Mom took it hard. It cost her the friendship she had with Lily. But I've explained our history to Mom, and she understands. When we visit Arcadia next month, and Mom sees how happy you make me, she will welcome you with open arms. Trust me, Mom has good instincts about people."

"Unlike Joan..." Barbara murmurs as she falls asleep.

Kevin kisses Barbara's forehead as he recalls Joan's latest demonstration of her intincts. Earlier that evening Joan pulled him aside for a confidential talk on the balcony...

"Barbara is carrying a bit of resentment toward you, big brother. You need to deal with that before it grows into a major problem."

"Is this because I lucked into a writing gig on the show where she was already working, and have been made an associate producer?"

"Figure it out, Kev. Barbara has studied and worked hard for years to get her start in the business, while you happen to toss out a couple of suggestions to the executive producer while being given a tour of the studio. You're an overnight success and becoming well known in this town for saving the show. And what did you tell me about the one thing Barbara hates most?"

"That people are willing to give her all sorts of breaks just because she is the daughter of Hi Greyson, the famous director."

"And now Barbara is becoming known as the girlfriend of that rising TV writer, Kevin Girardi. She wants to make it on her own merits, and this will be a real problem if you're not careful..."

Kevin muses on Joan's advice. He knows she is right. There has been a strain in his relationship with Barbara that he hasn't been able to figure out, but after spending less than hour with them, Joan's instincts had it solved. He may not understand how Joan does this, but she is right too often to be ignored...

Meanwhile, up the spiral staircase that leads to the loft bedroom, Joan Girardi tosses and turns as she has another bad night filled with nightmares. For months she has had these terrible dreams, and now they are more vivid than ever before. Joan moans in distress at these visions of pain, violence, death and endless amounts of blood...

To Be Continued.

(Footnote: For those unfamiliar with Mick St. John and 'Moonlight', it was a Friday night/CBS series in the 2007/08 season. Although the show did not last more than one season, it has a lot of dedicated fans, and is being rerun on the CW network in the summer of 2010.)


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

6-17-07/Sunday morning, Father's Day.

Tap-tap-tap. Joan awakens and moans. Tap-tap-tap. Did she have to buy her tutor-angel a dictionary? Vacation: a noun meaning a period of rest and relaxation away from one's usual routine, often involving travel… Tap-tap-tap. Oh crap, she might as well get up. He won't leave her alone until she responds. Joan goes to the window and opens it…

"Go away!" (Joan tries to close the window, but the angel's huge finger blocks her.) "I'm on vacation. Understand?"

"Yes, I was informed of your reduced duty status."

"Well? Why are you here?"

"Morning training session."

"We seem to be having a communications problem. I have time off, and I'm going to enjoy it. No training sessions until I get back to Arcadia. Get it?"

"No, I don't 'get it' but I am familiar with this human weakness. While you indulge your sloth, do you plan to let your skills atrophy? Hopefully, no desperate soul will have need of your help."

Joan sighs. He was right—damn it. At her level, one mistake could ruin a life, or cost one. To stay at the top of her game, she must keep her mind, body and spirit sharp. As much as she would like to veg out this summer, she can't risk it.

"Fine. A short work out."

Her tutor-angel shrugs. "There's a nearby beach."

He turns and walks away, barely visible in the predawn light. Joan watches, wondering what people would say if they could see him—25 feet tall, jet black and with six tightly folded wings. Joan has to admit he is an impressive sight once you got use to his fierce appearance. The glowing eyes were quite an adjustment to make, but it helped when you remembered the glow came from his love for God.

Joan changes into her sweats (yes, she anticipated this), picks up the key Kevin gave her and heads downstairs. Grabbing a bottle of water, Joan walks to the beach, arriving just as dawn breaks. After some stretching exercises, Joan begins running laps around the nearly deserted beach. Joan alternates quarter mile sprints with one mile jogs—completing four sets. Arriving back where her tutor is waiting, Joan gulps down her water and begins a series of martial arts moves—warrior angel style.

Finally coming to a rest on a bench, Joan looks up at her tutor. "No lecture? You usually have a demonology topic you bark at me during my run."

"You're on vacation. Review your notebook."

Joan mocks, "Gee thanks, what a break. By the way, Happy Anniversary."

"Anniversary? Oh yes, that human obsession with time and dates."

"Yeah, it was one year ago today that you first tapped on my window."

"As I recall, you fainted."

"Well, you weren't exactly what I was expecting."

"Nor were you."

Joan thinks about that for a moment. Her tutor is immortal, and has seen the entire march of time. He has witnessed the great leaders of worldly and spiritual affairs from the time of the bible down to modern times. No wonder he is so unimpressed with Joan Agnes Girardi. At least, after a rocky start, they have managed to develop a working relationship…

"I had terrible dreams last night." (Joan pauses to see if he will react. He doesn't.) "They were filled with screams of anguish, death and…blood. Lots of blood."

She pauses again. Still no reaction.

"Are you listening?"

"Yes."

"People were dying by the hundreds—maybe thousands. Was this a premonition?"

"It was your dream. By now you should be able to tell the difference between a human nightmare and divine revelation."

"This…was different from anything I've encountered before."

"Part of the maturing process is learning to deal with the new and the 'different'. With your higher sense of awareness, you will become more cognizant of the board of life, and will detect subtle shifts on the spiritual plain all on your own."

Joan sighs. Her nightmares were confusing, but one aspect was clearer than all others. She has no choice but to ask…

"Tell me about vampires in L. A."

X X X X X

From the diary of Helen Girardi...

Just back from Father's Day brunch at the Hotel Wentworth - pricey but delicious. Eleanor cried the entire time we were there, which earned us a lot of dirty looks from the other diners. Hey, babies cry - except for Annie, who was as good as gold. A big plus, Luke got Grace to agree not to breast feed in public, which made the occasion a happier one for Will. (He's never said anything, but we all know how uncomfortable the breast feeding makes him.) My darling husband enjoyed his presents: a watch from Luke and Grace, a Derek Storm mystery from Joan and a fancy golf club from Kevin. My gift...comes tonight.

X X X X X

Joan rides in the back of Kevin's new Lexus, enjoying the scenery of the drive from Venice Beach to Brentwood. Traffic is light, as it is in most cities on a Sunday morning. Joan muses on the information supplied by her tutor...

"There are currently 410 vampires in the greater Los Angeles area. They are a loose knit community without a formal governmental structure, but a group of elder vampires have influence and vigorously enforce the 'vampire code'. They maintain clean up crews who prevent the morgue from being overwhelmed with exsanguinated corpses, and they deal efficiently with rogues."

Joan knows that rogues were generally newly turned vampires whose need for blood is enormous and irresistable. They often leave a trail of blood drained bodies, including their own families and friends. The rogue's sire is suppose to keep them under control while teaching them to behave responsibly - by vampire standards. Many are never able to successfully make the transition, and are put down like mad dogs - fire being the preferred method of execution...

Their arrival at the Brentwood Chapel of Peace snaps Joan's mind back to the here and now. The Chapel is a pleasant but rather generic looking building for a house of worship. Joan braces herself for her reunion with Dylan. Fully briefed by Kevin and Barbara, Joan is aware that Dylan has a girlfriend, and in a bizarre coincidence, the girl is Stevie Marx... Guilt. Everytime Joan thinks of Stevie, she feels guilt for her part in ruining Stevie's life. Joan can't fathom how the ripples went so bad in Stevie's case.

At least Joan has her reunion with Dr. John Hunter to look forward to. Her ex-shrink and fellow servant of God is now engaged to a woman named Felicity Brewster. Barbara assures Joan that her stepfather's fiancee is a charming and beautiful woman who has convinced John to join her much less 'religiously fanatical' church. This surprises Joan, considering Dr. Hunter's lifelong devotion to his old full-gospel church.

Upon entering the church, the first couple they encounter are Dylan and Stevie. Joan gulps hard as she takes in her ex-boyfriend, who is even sexier than he was in high school... A little more mature, even more buff and with a great tan, Dylan Hunter once more takes center stage as the object of her sexual fantasies - oh crap, more guilt.

"Hello Dylan, it's good to see you again." Joan says as they share a brief, awkward hug.

"You too, Joan. Er, do you remember Stevie Marx?"

"Of course. Hello Stevie."

Stevie marks her territory by putting her arm around Dylan's waist before replying. "Hello Joan, quite a twist of fate the two of us meeting again."

"Very. I'm...really sorry to hear about your parents. Erica was so young for a heart attack, and Charlie...well, I always thought he was a great guy." Joan says as she recalls her first meeting with Charlie Marx, long before she ever met Stevie. It was back when she was building the boat. The Marx family lived only a block from Arcadia High, and Joan saw Charlie polishing a wooden speedboat he had lovingly restored. She pestered him endlessly with questions which he answered with reasonable good humor. Such a nice man...

Stevie responds, "Thank you, Joan. It was a rough time, but I managed to get through it with Dylan's help." (Footnote)

Joan hesitates as she automatically takes a 'read' on the situation. Stevie's feelings about her parents are a curious mix of grief...and hope? Less confusing is her feelings for Dylan. She utterly adores him in a soul mates for life kind of way. But Dylan, while very fond of Stevie and delighted by their sexual connection, is still overwhelingly in love with Joan. She can feel the waves of his love crashing against her soul, and Joan knows she can have him back with a snap of her fingers. Oh God, can you actually be crushed by the weight of guilt?

A voice from behind says, "Joan Girardi, how is Arcadia's favorite hometown hero?"

Joan smiles as she recognizes the voice of her friend, John Hunter. She turns to face him, and her smile disappears. Outwardly Dr. Hunter is still the vigorous, athletic man is his 40's that she has always known, but seen through spiritual eyes, John is a man drained of all energy. Spiritually, he is a mere shell of his former self. What has happened to her friend?"

"Dr. Hunter...how are you?"

"Thriving, as any man in love should be. And you look remarkably fit, Joan. Still jogging?"

Joan nods as Barbara greets her step-dad with an effusive hug. Their familial love is as strong as any blood relationship. Barbara gives John a wrapped present and a kiss on the cheek. Dr. Hunter also greets Kevin with a warm handshake. If there is any awkwardness about Kevin and Barbara co-habitating, Joan can't detect it. But, Joan does detect a sudden rise in the libidoes of the crowd of people around her. Mostly the men are affected, but several nearby women are also becoming aroused. A raven-haired beauty with an incredible figure and a glamorous face joins the group. Dr. Hunter puts his arm around her...

"Joan, allow me to introduce the love of my life and my fiancee, Felicity Brewster."

Joan stares at the woman appalled, and Felicity stares at Joan with open hostility. Felicity Brewster is possessed by a lust demon.

X X X X X

Kim Bauer serves her father his Denver omlette with just a bit of flourish. She is proud of her improving culinary skills, and while she may never reach the level of her late mother, she is getting closer.

"It looks delicious, Kim." Jack Bauer says as he digs in. "Tastes great too."

"Thanks Dad. I'm so glad we can have breakfast together, and I'm especially happy you have the whole day off. Lately, we haven't been able to spend much time together."

"I know, and I'm sorry. Fortunately, my deputy never had kids, so he doesn't mind taking over on Father's Day."

Kim sighs. "You sound busy. Am I keeping you from something important?"

Jack shrugs. "There's always something going on, but I wouldn't miss spending this day with you for anything. C-T-U can do without me, after all, what can happen in a single day?"

Disproving the point, Jack's phone buzzes. Mouthing a quick 'Sorry', he checks an incoming text from Agent King... 'Smith proving to be a hard nut to crack. Request permission to apply exceptional pressure.'

Jack texts back, 'Granted'.

"Problem?" Kim asks.

"Routine." Jack replies as he returns to his omlette. He never expected Hobart Smith to be a pushover. The man is tough and an utter fanatic. If there is no progress by tomorrow, he will have to apply the special Jack Bauer touch to the interrogation...

X X X X X

Mick St. John is buzzed into the basement apartment of Logan Griffith, the best vampire I. T. guy is the business. Logan is unique in Mick's experience as the only vampire he knows who has never bit a human. Turned only a couple of years ago by one of Josef's minions, Logan's blood needs were fulfilled by a steady supply from the blood bank. Josef, even though over 400, recognized the community's need for a brillant computer hacker, and acknowledged the sensibility of the growing trend not to hunt humans for food.

"Mick, what brings you by so early in the day?" Logan asks as he pauses one of his endless games of Guitar Hero.

"I've got a job for you. I need to access the files of a women's federal prison. Can you hack their system?"

"Mick, do you even have to ask? Are you looking for someone in particular?"

"Yes, but I don't know who. I'll need the names of every prisoner released within the last week. Hopefully, that list won't be too long. I also need a cross reference to which of those women shared the cell block of a prisoner named Alice Sokel."

"Ridiculously easy. Payment in blood or money?"

"Money."

"Have a seat, pick the video game of your choice, and I'll have what you need in less than an hour."

X X X X X

Joan is washing her hands in the church's ladies room when Stevie enters. They nod politely as Joan begins to dry her hands. She knows why Stevie is here, but also knows the topic on her mind is a difficult one to broach all at once.

"Uh, are you enjoying the sermon, Joan?"

"On the importance of fathers? Appropriate for the day." (Actually, the bland, homile filled sermon has helped Joan center in on Stevie's feelings. Everytime the pastor mentions dads, Stevie registers sadness, but on the few times he mentioned moms, Stevie's hopes soar. This is a mystery Joan feels she can't ignore.)

"Uh, Joan...there was something I wanted to talk about..." Stevie hesitates, trembling with emotion.

"About Dylan?"

"Y-Yes. For over a year Dylan has been my friend and my anchor during the storms of life. He was even there when I found my biological grandmother."

"The one that recently remarried?"

"Yes, she moved to Hawaii to live with her new husband, and I was left on my own again. But I still had Dylan..."

(Joan thinks: 'And you were lonely, and Dylan had a steady exposure to the power of a lust demon. He desperately needed a release valve for his exploding libido'.)

Joan says, "And that's when your loyal friend became your boyfriend."

Stevie nods, her eyes glistening with tears. "I-I know Dylan still loves you, Joan. I can hear it in his voice whenever he mentions your name. Joan, please..."

"I'm not here to take Dylan from you, Stevie. Not after all the pain I've already caused you..."

"Joan, I don't blame you for any of that bad stuff. I know you were only trying to help... Are you sure about Dylan? At one time you loved him."

"I still love Dylan...to some degree. But don't get edgy. I had to face a hard reality when it came to Dylan Hunter. Here was this great, sexy guy who loved me, and naturally, I wanted to love him back. But in time, I had to admit that although my feelings toward Dylan were all good, deep down I just knew he wasn't the one. I knew I could never love him as much as he loved me, and a relationship like that, no matter how good it felt in the short term, couldn't last."

Joan pauses, hoping Stevie will take the hint, but she only senses Stevie's enormous relief.

"Thank you, Joan. I know in time Dylan will come to love me as deeply as I love him..."

There was nothing left to say after that. The two young women rejoin the congregation for the close of services. The pastor, who looks like an old hippie, dismisses his flock...

"May the universe bring you boundless peace and joy so you may share it with your fellow travelers through life. Please remember to greet our visitors."

The friendly crowd begins milling about, sharing greetings and enjoying each other's company. Joan remains in the pew as the other members of her group mingle with the crowd. "Clues are everywhere..." So, as soon as Joan is sure she is unobserved, she does a quick look-see into Stevie's purse. It takes only seconds to find the only unusual item, a business card that reads: Mick St. John, Private Investigator. Joan quickly puts everything back to normal while wondering why Stevie would need the services of a detective.

Stevie returns accompanied by a beautiful blonde (are there no brunettes in California?) "Joan, I'd like you to meet my best friend, Cindy Sullivan."

After sharing a quick handshake, Cindy says with a smile, "Joan, we have something in common. We are both members of the Dylan Hunter Ex-Girlfriend Club."

Joan remembers Dylan's bitter references to his ex, 'Cindy the Cheerleader'. "Are you yanking my chain? How did the two of you meet?"

Stevie replies, "We met our last year of high school, long before I met Dylan."

"Wow Stevie, coincidence must be your middle name."

As the three girls continue to talk, Joan notices Felicity Brewster secretly snapping a photo of her with a cell phone. Odd. Lust demons were sensation junkies who normally would flee from an instrument of God, but this one is planning something. Too bad she can't do anything about the foul creature in this crowd...

At the far end of the church, in a secluded corner, Dylan Hunter is speaking in whispered tones with Crazy Hat Lady God (this time she is wearing a bird's nest on the top of her hat, complete with a mechanical bluebird that flaps its' wings).

"Dylan, I want you to start spending more time with Stevie, especially at night."

"You...want me to start spending the whole night with Stevie? Is this a sign that she and I should..."

"This is not a commentary on your personal relationship with the girl. That is a matter of the free will choices of both of you, but I hope you realize how disappointed I would be if Stevie was hurt because of your love affair."

"I would never want to hurt Stevie. But, why then are you asking that I get closer to her?"

"Your role is to be one of bodyguard. Stevie is in danger, and you are uniquely qualified to guard her."

"What sort of danger?"

"One that you can handle. Watch over her, Dylan. I will tell you more when the time is right."

With that, Crazy Hat God heads for the exit, giving a backhanded wave as she goes.

A short distance away, in his civilian clothes, Sgt. Ray Sullivan quietly speaks to his daughter, Cindy. "Who was that brown-haired girl you were talking to?"

"Believe it or not, she's another of Dylan's ex-girlfiends. They knew other last year in Arcadia."

"Got a name for her?"

"Joan Girardi. Dad, is there something wrong?"

"No, she just reminds me that I need to make an addition to a report when I get to headquarters tomorrow..."

X X X X X

The rest of the day goes quietly for Joan. Dylan and Stevie are taking Dr. Hunter and Felicity out to lunch, so no chance to deal with the lust demon at this time. No doubt the demon controlling Felicity will do its' best to keep Joan away from them. Kevin and Barbara drop Joan off at the apartment before starting the long drive to Malibu to spend the rest of Father's Day at a Greyson family barbeque. Joan can tell that stress levels for Barbara are rising sharply as she faces a day with her real dad, his four ex-wives, her four other half brothers and Hi Greyson's current wife, who is very pregnant. This is apparently one of those do-your-duty family gatherings where all participants are expected to pretend to get along. Sad.

After draping some beach towels over the balcony railing for privacy, Joan starts work on her tan - liberally coated in a high SPF lotion. Joan wears her tiniest bikini, and briefly considers tanning topless but can't bring herself to try despite the low risk of being seen. Her mother's lectures on modesty are too heavily ingrained. (No 'Girls Gone Wild' for Joan.) She tries to relax, listening to tunes, but her mind and instincts won't turn off. Joan reaches for her cell phone and calls an old friend...

"You've got the Friedman."

"Hey, it's me. I could use your help."

"Of course, Joan. Is this part of an assignment?" Friedman asks, being one of the few people in on Joan's secret.

"Not sure. Technically I'm on vacation..."

"But you're always on call. Got it. How can I help?"

"I need a thorough background check on a local P. I. named Mick St. John..."

X X X X X

6-18-07/Monday, just before dawn.

Felicity Brewster groans with pain as she struggles to come awake, not in the usual silk sheets of her condo's bedroom but in the scratchy poly/cotton sheets of a strange bed. Confused, Felicity looks about at yet another cheap motel room. Empty beer cans litter the room, and a glance at the contents of the bedside wastebasket reveals six condom wrappers - generic. Oh no, just how low has she sunk this time? It has been over a year since she has had one of these blackouts. Not since she met John...

John! How could she do this to him? She loves John, she's marrying him and even hopes to have a baby with him... For most of her life, infidelity has been as tough of a moral choice as picking between Coke and Pepsi, but that changed when Felicity met John Hunter. There was something different about John - something fundamentally good that managed to stir long dormant dreams of a normal life.

Felicity rises from the bed, really feeling the pain now. She glances at the dresser mirror and sees the bruising on her naked body. Someone likes to play very rough... Felicity tries to remember what happened last night, but she rarely recalls much from these blackouts. During these times it felt like her life was a video game with someone else at the controller.

Felicity peeks out the window and sees her Mercedes parked out front. She has to get out of her before that man comes back... Her memory is jogged. She at least remembers the begining. Early last evening, shortly before sunset, she had an irresistable urge to travel to the Venice Beach area. She needed to find a particular type of man who is also familiar with the area. He had to be big, strong and very mean...

X X X X X

At that moment, Vince Lloyd waits in the dark alley behind Kevin and Barbara's apartment building, his hands gripping a baseball bat. He muses on how he ended up here, waiting to attack a college co-ed he has never met. Last evening, as he was pumping iron on the beach (surrounded by admiring, bikini-clad girls), the most amazing woman he has ever seen stood off at a distance watching him. She was in her 30's and wearing an ordinary business suit, but her incredible sex appeal made the younger, nearly naked women around him seem like dirt.

The raven-haired beauty approached, gave him an appraising look and nodded. Vince dropped the barbell he was holding. Others laughed, but he didn't care. Vince followed the woman like a moth to a flame. They ended up in a fleabag motel for the greatest night of sex in his life. Six times! Not even when he was a teenager could he manage that, and certainly no other woman could endure so much. Vince liked it rough, far rougher than most women could endure, but his nameless beauty seemed to understand what he wanted.

Of course, then came what she really wanted. Just a little favor - no big deal for a man like him, being so very strong and with a fondness for hurting women. She showed him a picture on her cell phone of a pretty girl with brown hair that she wanted taken care of. There was an accompaning story - some nonsense about a love triangle and how the brunette was stalking her. Vince didn't believe a word of it - he wasn't quite as stupid as she believed. It didn't matter. For his beautiful lover, he would gladly kill the girl, but all she wanted was the brunette busted up a bit. Just a few broken bones that would put her out of commission for awhile. And so, just before dawn, Vince waits in the alley for the girl who will soon be passing by on her way to the beach for a jog.

Vince watches the window reflection of the store across the street. Yes, there she is, carrying a towel and a bottle of water. This will be a quick job, and if she doesn't scream or struggle, maybe he will go easy on her. Maybe. The girl is nearly even with him. Vince smiles and raises the bat...

To Be Continued. Please review.

Footnote: The details of the start of the Dylan/Stevie relationship can be found in my story, FIRST ASSIGNMENT.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

In the alley behind Kevin and Barbara's apartment, someone in the deep shadows of the dawn hour groans in great pain. Vince Lloyd tries to control his gasps of agony as he doesn't want to attract attention. Vince has already used his cell phone to call for help from a friend who knows how to keep his mouth shut. No ambulances or police for Vince—not when he would have to admit that his attack on a teenage girl went so horribly wrong. Embarrassing.

Vince reviews his brief fight with the girl, trying to understand what happened. He was standing in the alley, just next to the sidewalk, and when the girl came even with his position he swung his bat—aiming for her jawline. The girl ducked the blow so easily, it was like she knew it was coming. Silently, the pair circled each other, the girl adopting a martial arts stance Vince had never seen. He swung the bat again, and it was like the girl…disappeared. The closest thing Vince could compare it too was a magician's sleight-of-hand trick. She just wasn't where he fully expected her to be. He soon found out where she went when he felt his left thigh bone shatter…

Vince grits his teeth against the searing pain. How? How had she done it? The thigh bone is the strongest bone in the body, and very few martial arts experts could break one with a kick. This girl used her hand! To add insult to injury, there were no cries for help or calls to the police. She calmly retrieved her fallen water bottle and towel, and then proceeded on to the beach as if nothing had happened. It was like he was a pawn on a chess board who had been routinely toppled by the queen…

X X X X X

In Stevie Marx's bedroom, Dylan Hunter stands at the window watching the sunrise. In terms of being a bodyguard, last night was an uneventful evening. Unless God calls him off of this assignment, he knows he will have to keep staying the night with Stevie. Not that this is an unpleasant duty. Dylan looks over at his sleeping girlfriend and smiles. Stevie is so beautiful, kind and sweet. He loves that she is nearly always an up and happy person, especially considering the harsh life events she has endured. Desperately he hopes that their relationship won't be another painful event in her life. If only Joan wasn't in town, stirring anew the feelings for her that he has been trying to suppress for over a year…

Dylan sighs. Stevie has been through so much, and now some unknown danger is looming. He knows Stevie too well to think she is hiding anything from him, so this must have something to do with that letter from 'A Friend'. No, better not make assumptions. Despite the obvious possibility, he must stay alert to any potential risk. If he fails, and Stevie is hurt, or worse…

"You're up early."

Dylan turns and sees Stevie, modestly covered by a sheet, smiling at him.

"I wanted to watch the sunrise."

"You were restless all night. I know you checked the doors and windows at least twice."

"Well, you know how it is the first time you sleep in a new place. All the little creaks and groans that the host no longer notices, the guest can't ignore."

"I never thought of you as the nervous type. Dylan, I live in a safe neighborhood."

"I know, but you can never be too careful. For instance, have you noticed any strangers lingering around, or maybe had a feeling that you were being watched or followed?"

"Dylan, what's this all about?"

"Nothing in particular. It's just that you're so pretty and such a trusting person. I often worry about someone taking advantage of you, or God forbid, hurting you."

"That's sweet, but I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself. Now, since we are up so early, would you like me to fix you breakfast, or…"

Stevie lifts the sheet, revealing her curvacious body. Dylan growls his approval of this view and returns to the bed, trying to ignore the guilt he feels. There were times he wished he had never met Joan Girardi—that way he could fully commit his heart to Stevie. But there was no way to erase the past, and he will just have to deal with the angst of knowing the beautiful young woman in his arms will always be second place In his heart…

X X X X X

Joan arrives at the beach, and takes a moment to enjoy the view in the light of dawn. Her tutor-angel is there, and easily spotted—at least by her. For a change, he isn't impatiently waiting on her appearance. Instead, the gigantic, fierce, warrior angel is in a kow tow position before an old guy in a black suit. It has been a long time since Joan has seen this version: Mad Creepy God.

Joan walks over and shares the bench with what must look like to the few people about as a man who just doesn't know what to wear on the beach…

"An exciting start to your morning, Joan?"

Joan briefly grins. "My first time using the fighting techniques I was taught. They really work!"

"Did you think otherwise?"

"Well, when the big guy first started teaching me those moves, they made about as much sense as 'wax on/wax off'. It looks like Felicity's lust demon has decided to…come out swinging."

Mad Creepy God smiles at the pun. "Yes, apparently it doesn't realize you are on vacation."

"Some vacation. First a demon to handle, and then all of those nightmares about vampires and a mass killing of some kind—what's next, the four horsemen?"

"No, not yet."

"And what's with Dr. Hunter? How could a very spiritual man like him become involved with a woman who is demon possessed?"

"John Hunter has been in my service since he was a teenager, but he has had virtually no experience with the demonic. When he met Felicity Brewster, he was unusually vulnerable to her charms."

"How so?"

"John has been without a wife for a long time, and after his stay in Arcadia and the crush he had on your mother…"

"WHAT?"

"Relax Joan, it never went anywhere. John would never allow himself to say or do anything inappropriate with a married woman. However, upon his return to Los Angeles, John had the mindset that it was time to seek a new wife. Unfortunately, that is when he met Felicity."

"And he didn't suspect anything was wrong?"

"He did—briefly, but the intense renewal of his libido overwhelmed any doubts."

"Small head thinking?"

"Not entirely. Don't underestimate Miss Brewster. Were it not for her demonic controller, she would, in many ways, make John an excellent wife."

"I'll keep that in mind when I deal with the demon."

"Joan, I haven't given you an assignment. You are on vacation, with my full blessing. Feel free to take a swim, work on your tan and enjoy the unusual mix of people who will be arriving soon."

Joan laughs bitterly. "There you go again, being a passive-aggressive jerk…"

Joan is interrupted by a snarl from her tutor-angel. For one moment he breaks his lowered position to glare at Joan. Oh crap, he is really pissed.

Joan quickly adds, "Uh, what I mean is, you know I can't just stand by and watch one of my friends suffer. Not Dr. Hunter, and while I'm thinking about it, not Stevie. What's up with her? Why is she hiring a private detective, and does that have anything to do with her strange feelings about her mother? Please, I need to know. I owe Stevie."

"Don't you mean you think I owe her, Joan? That you think I erred when I had you become involved in her life?"

"I know I can't see the big picture, but you have to admit, the ripples haven't worked out well for Stevie."

"The ripples are not yet done, and it is not just her fate that is at stake."

"Are we back to my nightmares? Because I have an increasing sensation that something really bad is going to happen soon. Real soon. Is this about vampires? Because I didn't sign on to be any sort of…slayer."

"Nor would I ask you to be. You should avoid contact with their kind, Joan—even though you have an advantage that most humans don't enjoy."

"You mean the same one I have over demons?"

Mad Creepy God nods. "Because you spend so much time in my presence, you carry about with you a small amount of 'reflected glory'. No one will ever have to put a blanket over you because you shine so brightly, but it is enough to prevent any demon from personally attacking you without dire consequences."

"But…vampires aren't demons."

"No, they are a form of mutant, but that mutation was originally devised through the corrupting influence of the enemy. That plus their lifestyle of consuming life…of drinking blood…"

On both the spiritual plain, and literally beneath her feet, Joan feels the earth shake. It is brief, but an indicator of the level of wrath god intends to impose upon the blood drinkers.

"So any vampire that touches an instrument of God will suffer the agony of hell?"

"For a short time, yes. It is an indication of their condemned status. Joan, be careful. I know your heart, and I realize you will not be able to let this go. But be aware, despite this edge you have over vampires, no human—not even you, is safe around them."

With that, Mad Creepy God, whom Joan associates with death ever since Rocky's funeral, walks away—giving the backhand wave as he goes. Joan tuns back to her tutor, who is now on his feet and fuming as he stares down at her. Joan can feel his rage, and his almost overwhelming desire to smite her. Fearing he will lose control, the warrior angel turns and walks into the sea. He swims away.

"Huh, I didn't know he could do that." Joan remarks as she regrets this set back in their relationship. Over a year of hard work and trust building ruined by a few careless words. Joan sighs and begins her workout.

X X X X X

Later that morning in the main interrogation room at CTU, Jack Bauer enters and slaps down a file folder in front of a handcuffed Hobart Smith.

"I'm Jack Bauer, the agent in charge of this facility, and you are Hobart Smith, ex-marine corporal, veteran of Desert Storm and a former sheriff's deputy with ten year's experience. How the hell did a man like you end up a terrorist?"

Smith, muscular but with a bit of middle-aged spread, smiles. The man was tough, Jack had to concede that. The drugs they were giving him simulated the pain of a heart attack. Most men would crack after the first dose, and promise anything for the relief of the antidote. Smith, pale and sweaty, was stubbornly holding out...

"One man's terrorist is another man's patriot. For instance, I bet a lot of people think of you as a patriot...JACK. The head fed who devotes his life to defending his country from a handful of rag-headed lunatics. Bravoes and hoorays all around, for a fool! I think you're an incompetent cog in a system so corrupt, it isn't worth saving."

"I'm not the one who has spent the last two years traveling around the world gathering weapons from sleazy arms merchants and our country's enemies."

"And I'm not the useless bureaucrat who sits on his butt while an invading army seeps across our border, taking over this nation by sheer weight of numbers."

"We're not here to discuss immigration policy."

"POLICY? That implies a legal process. Our laws are ignored or spit on by those who know nothing of our history or culture, while a bunch of career politicans refuse to stand by their nation because it might cost them a future election. Disgusting traitors! This is the way the Roman Empire fell. Not by conquest, but through the assimilation of a people who had grown too weak to defend their land and their values."

"Is that what you and the Brotherhood are planning? A demonstration of...values?"

Smith laughs. "No, we've moved beyond that. The Brotherhood of American Blood started as a simple political movement, dedicated to standing up for traditional American values. What did we get for our efforts to improve the nation? The federal government, who thinks it owns us instead of working for us, decided we should be crushed. Our phones were tapped, our mail opened and our homes invaded by masked gunmen who believe shouting 'Federal agent' absolves them of all legal responsibility."

"Your group was declared a dangerous militia that was plotting the overthrow of the government."

"Of course we were plotting an overthrow - through the ballot box! But the established power structure grew nervous when they saw how fast our numbers were growing, so they said we were armed crackpots. Were we armed? Sure. Just as our fathers and their fathers before them were armed. But we weren't a 'militia'. We were just old fashioned Americans living our traditional lives in an era that chooses to be blind, stupid and lazy. We finally gave up trying to change things the legal way after you bastards murdered my brother!"

Jack hesitates as he again reviews Smith's file. He was letting the man rant in the hope he would let something important slip, but now they were at the crux of the matter. The one event that tipped the balance and changed a bunch on-the-edge goobers into fanatical separatists who were determined to carve out their own little country at any cost. Sadly, there was some truth in Hobart's claim of government guilt in the death of Leon Smith...

"Your brother was a drug dealer who was killed while resisting arrest."

The handcuffed man laughs bitterly. "The official line? Somehow I expected better of you, JACK. Leon and his wife Brenda were little more than a couple of oddball hippies who lived off the land and grew a little weed on the side. They smoked most of what they grew, but they did trade a little with some townsfolk for needed supplies. The only reason you feds went after Leon was because he was my brother. He never belonged to the Brotherhood, and he never held a gun in his life."

"Officially, he died resisting arrest."

"He died with a cell phone in his hand, trying to reach his lawyer. The poor fool still thought he was an American citizen with rights. But Leon's death did serve a greater purpose. When the Brotherhood realized the government could casually kill our families without reprecussion, and the men who shot him down were never punished or even reprimanded, well - then we knew this was no longer our America. The time had come to start our own country, and the tale of my brother's death swelled our ranks enormously."

"Spurred on by the repeated testimony of Brenda Smith, who never tires of telling how her 'innocent' husband died in her arms. Now, for the first time in years, Brenda has left the northwest wilderness to travel to L. A. on the same day you return from overseas. She has no outstanding warrants, so...we're settling for keeping her under surveillance. But you, Hobart, you we have on a long list of charges. You will never see the world outside the walls of a federal prison...that is, if you make it to prison."

"Trying to scare me, Jackie-boy? Do your damndest. You won't make me crack, at least not before the Brotherhood strikes."

"We know members of your gang are entering the L. A. area. Planning something ambitious?"

Smith smugly grins. "You want to know what weapons I've smuggled in, and where we plan to strike? Sorry, I can't tell you that, but I will tell you how we got our 'supplies' over the border. Since border security is such a low priority for the government, we just used the same people who smuggle those desperate wretches into this land. For a price, they'll take anything across."

"What do you hope to accomplish?"

"Washington has out list of demands. We just want a land we can call our own, where we can live our lives the way God meant them to be lived - free of beetle brained bureaucrats who want to micro-manage every moment of our lives. And you know what? They'll give it to us."

"Never."

"No? Then you haven't been paying attention to how weak this country has become. This nation is soft and easily panicked. All we have to do is bump up the casualty rate far beyond what anyone could expect. Do you think the spineless politicians will turn us down if we...say, poison the water supplies of a hundred towns all in the same day? The loss of half a million people from towns thought to be 'safe' will shake this country down to its' very roots. The people will cry out in fear, and those career politicos will do anything to mollify the voters - including giving away an entire state to make everyone feel safe. If that doesn't work, we could...wait until the middle of a freezing winter and blow up all of the natural gas pipelines that feed the mid-west and the northeast. Think a million people freezing to death will convince them to see things our way?"

"Can you hear yourself? You whine about the unfortunate death of your drug dealing brother while casually plotting the death of millions. What sort of man are you?"

"One that is done with this country. One that sees no future for what use to be a great nation. That's why we will have one of our own. A country where our values mean something, and the bizarre garbage that's been thrust down our throats the last thirty years will be done away with. But hey Jack, I'll be fair with you. Twenty years from now, when this region is the Republic of North Mexico, and the English language is forbidden, apply for a visa. I'll see that you get in, for old times sake."

Smith laughs as Jack shakes his head. There was no cracking this man. He will gladly die for the cause before he tells anything. Jack ruefully wishes they really did have surveillance on Brenda Smith. Finding her might be their last chance to prevent a disaster...

X X X X X

Mick St. John leaves his business card stuck in the front door of a small tract house in a working class neighborhood. He checks the incredibly long list supplied by his friend Logan of prisoners released last week, and who were also in the same cell block as Alice Sokel. So far he has eliminated nine names, with twenty two left to go. This small house belongs to a Nancy Mirren, just released after a two year stretch for income tax evasion. Like a lot of names on the list, the woman is just getting her life organized again. No known cell phone or land line, no known assoiciates in the area, and no known place of employment is the common story he is encountering. No doubt 'Nancy' is out looking for a job - a tough task at any time, but with a felony conviction by her name...

Mick checks his list again while carefully remaining in the shade. He is spending way too much time in the sun, and he is begining to feel woozy. Fortunately, he remembered to bring a cooler with a fresh supply of blood. A quick nap in a freezer would help too, since vampires are so sensitive to heat, but that will have to wait until he returns home. In the meantime, on with the hunt. All he has to do is find 'A Friend' and ask if she sent the letter. His superior hearing will tell him, by her heart beat, if the woman is telling the truth better than any lie detector. If he can ever find any of these women! Mick makes a note by Nancy Mirren's name to check back, and shielding his face from the sun with his arm, he hurries back to his car...

X X X X X

Felicity brewster reclines on her living room couch while sipping a cup of tea. A solicitous John Hunter hovers nearby, obviously concerned by the bruising his fiancee has suffered in a 'fall'...

"John, really, you didn't have to take off from work to attend to me. I have a few painful bruises, but the doctor says I'll be fine."

"Well this doctor says you need plenty of tender loving care. Are you comfortable? Would you like another pillow?"

"I'm fine, John. I wish you would just go back to the office. I feel guilty taking up your time when your patients need you."

"There was nothing earth shattering on my calendar, and I do have partners who can take over in case of an emergency."

"But this isn't one, and frankly..." Felicity pauses.

"Are you trying to say you've grown tired of my company?"

"No, of course not, but...I hate for you to see me this way. All of these bruises and swelling, they make me feel...ugly."

John chuckles as he gently sits next to his fiancee. "Nothing could ever make you seem ugly in my eyes."

Tears form in Felicity's eyes as she gazes at the adoring face of the man she...loves. No, how can she say she loves John when she is leading him down a path to destruction? She, or rather her controller, has been slowly but steadily corrupting John - drawing him away from his core beliefs. It is an old game for Felicity, corrupting those who are good and innocent. But John is different than the others. There is something so good at the core of his being, for the first time in years, Felicity's heart has been touched...and it is breaking.

"John..."

"My love?"

Desperately, Felicity tries to form the words to tell John that they are through. It is the only thing she can do to save this wonderful man, but no matter how hard she tries, Felicity can't force the words to her lips. Her controller allows her a lot of latitude in her day-to-day life, but when it comes to matters of its' interests, there is no defying her...master. It considers John a prize above all value, and that is why it has devoted over a year to this project, and apparently plans to carry it on for who knows how long...

"Uh, I've changed my mind about lunch. I will have that sandwich."

"I'll be right back with a tray."

Felicity watches John leave the room, despising herself for being so weak. Not even her controller can prevent a single tear from rolling down her cheek...

X X X X X

In his office at the studio where 'Improper' is made, Kevin works diligently as his computer until he feels a sudden kiss on his cheek. He looks up to see a smiling Barbara...

"That's a relief. For a moment I thought Mrs. Walker was getting frisky."

"Well, your secretary is pretty hot - for a sixty year old. So, what are you working on so diligently now that production is over for this season?"

"My notes for the DVD commentary I'll be doing this afternoon with Keith. We have three episodes we have to finish today."

"That may be a little tough. The last I saw of our star, he was in the commissary flirting with your sister."

"With Joan...?"

"Hey, what's so surprising? Joan is pretty and Keith..."

"Is a serious womanizer. I don't like this. Joan is just a kid..."

"She's nineteen, and she's having the time of her life."

"But Keith has to be at least thirty."

"Thirty-three. But that doesn't seem to matter to Joan. When I introduced the two of them, she did that wide-eyed tourist thing and her jaw practically hit the floor. She's definitely star struck, and I don't think it would matter how old Keith is. You're not really worrried, are you?"

"Keith Scotch goes through women like an elephant through a bag of peanuts. I don't want my sister to be another notch on his bedpost - assuming there's still room for another notch."

"I wouldn't worry. Keith is a friend, and I think he's just trying to give a happy memory to the kid sister of the 'man-who-saved-the-show'. He wouldn't actually try to...ya know. Besides, Joan is smart and can handle herself."

"This is a switch. When did you become such a fan of Joan? Last I heard you thought she was weird."

"Well, last night when we got home from the barbeque, I was feeling sort of grumpy..."

"Grumpy? You were thoroughly pissed and ready to bite the head off of anyone who got in your way. That's why I kept my distance while you cooled off."

"Sorry. You know how upsetting I find those family gatherings. Luckily, Joan was there. We sat on the balcony and had a long talk. It's amazing how intuitive your sister is. There's stuff I've been trying to work out in therapy for years that Joan picked up on right away. All that stuff about how I resent my real dad while still trying to win Hi's approval, and at the same time hating the Hollywood elites that sneer at his work. Joan understood that all of that was the main reason I chose this business for a career. We weren't able to solve all of my problems, but it really helped to talk things out with someone who understood. I guess you were right. Joan's instincts are amazing."

Kevin nods as he remembers Joan's warning about his relationship with Barbara. If he wants to hold on to this wonderful woman, he has to find a way to let her shine clear of his shadow... Kevin's thoughts are interrupted by another kiss from Barbara.

"You know, we could go to lunch, or I could have a sandwich sent into the booth while you and Keith do the commentary."

Kevin smiles. "And what would we do to fill the exra time?"

Barbara smiles back. "We could lock the door and hope we don't scandalize Mrs. Walker too much."

Laughing and kissing, they travel in each other's arms to the door, lock it and return to the desk...

X X X X X

Later that afternoon, Nancy Mirren adds a couple of extra gallons to the old compact car she has settled for upon her release from prison. What the hell has happened to the price of gas since she went inside the joint? Nancy sighs as she returns the nozzle to the pump, wishing for the days when she could afford to have an attendant pump it for her. Stupid tax laws.

Nancy enters the convenience store to pay in cash for her gas - it will be awhile before she can get a new credit card. As Nancy waits in line, she looks about the store, which has a wide variety of items, few of which she will be able to afford if she can't find a job soon. Suddenly, Nancy spots a familiar face. Oh-my-God, Erica Marx? Yes, that's definitely her at the back of the store. For a moment Nancy considers going back to say hello to a fellow ex-con, but then she remembers the unusual circumstances and the letter she has already sent to Alice Sokel's 'daughter'. No, best to say nothing and leave. Quickly, Nancy pays her bill and departs, but when she reaches her car an idea comes to her. In the glove compartment she has an old camera from her earlier and better days. It still has a few shots left on the role of film...

Lounging outside the store, a young man with a beard stands watching as Nancy takes a photograph of someone in the store. Of course it might be something innocent, but he can't take any chances. He steps inside the store and whispers a report to another bearded man, this one older and obviously an in-charge type. The older man takes note of the situation and motions for a third man to join them...

"What's up Captain?"

"Shh. No ranks in public, remember?"

"Sorry sir."

"See that woman getting into the Cavalier?"

"Yeah..."

"You and Brooks follow. He'll fill you in. Do whatever is necessary to resolve the situation."

Brooks, the first man, asks... "Anything? Even...?"

"Hell yes, if you have to, kill her. We can't take any chances with the security of Brenda Smith..."

To Be Continued. Please review.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Brenda Smith, revered propaganda minister of the Brotherhood of American Blood, is carefully escorted into an old warehouse somewhere in Los Angeles. She doesn't know the city, and has only been allowed the one quick visit to the convenience store because of security reasons. Fortunately, all of the Brotherhood members present were men—the rugged individualist type, and so when she expressed a need for certain feminine products, they all agreed the trip to the store by 'Brenda' was a worthwhile security risk. For Erica Marx, a. k. a. Brenda Smith, the trip was vital. She had to get word to CTU about the warehouse, and the alarming contents being uncrated by these lunatics.

Erica hit on an idea from an old story about P. G. Wodehouse. A century ago, the then obscure author lived in a flat that was several stories above the street. Whenever he would complete a story, Wodehouse would place it in a stamped envelope and simply toss it out the window. Eventually, a passerby would find the envelope and mail it. Wodehouse never had a story go missing.

On Erica's trip to the convenience store, she had a letter with her addressed to Jack Bauer that she left behind. The letter contained every clue Erica could list about the warehouse, and the fact that the Brotherhood was uncrating one hundred 81 mm mortars. Erica was no military expert, but she knew that many mortars could drop thousands of explosive rounds onto a target in a matter of minutes. She still didn't know the intended site of this terrorist attack, but she had to get word to Bauer. Hopefully, whoever finds the letter will do the decent thing and mail it, just as people did a century ago.

One disturbing thing preyed on Erica's mind. During the trip to the store, something odd happened. Two of her security detail were sent to follow a compact car that was pulling out of the store's lot. When Erica questioned the leader of her security team, 'Captain' Carlisle, she was brushed off with a terse reply of, "Routine." Who were they following? Did someone recognize 'Brenda Smith', or was it Alice Sokel/Erica Marx who had aroused attention?

X X X X X

Nancy Mirren, recently released from a minimum security prison for income tax evasion, arrives back at the crapshack house she is renting with her rapidly dwindling funds. It had been a long and frustrating day. Jobs were scarce, and jobs for a convicted felon were nearly nonexistent. Nancy walks to the front of her house carrying a sack of fast food for her dinner, and her old camera with the photograph of Erica Marx in the convenience store. What a bizarre coincidence. Only days after mailing her anonymous note to Stevie Marx, she spots the supposedly dead Erica. Nancy doesn't like this coincidence, and regrets taking Erica's picture. What if Erica is in the witness protection program? The last thing Nancy needs is federal marshals pounding on her door…

Wedged in her front door, Erica finds a business card: Mick St. John, Private Investigator. A short note on the back asks for Nancy to call the detective. Damn it! Could this be about the letter she sent? How the hell did a private detective find her? Muttering under her breath, Nancy slips the card into her pocket and unlocks the door. Suddenly, two strong men appear seemingly from nowhere and shove Nancy into her house. Terrified, Nancy lands hard on the floor and is about to scream for help when one of the men points a pistol at her head and warns…

"Don't."

The second man secures the door and checks to see if they have attracted any attention…

"All clear."

"What…what do you want? If this is a robbery, you're out of luck." Nancy says, desperately hoping this is just a robbery.

"Give me the camera."

Nancy gladly hands over the camera. It isn't worth much.

The first man remarks, "Damn, it's film, not digital. We'll have to get it developed."

"Do we have time to wait here while it's being developed?"

"No. Get the duct tape. We'll take her with us and question her back at the warehouse. Once we verify who she photographed, it will be up to the Captain to get the truth out of her."

The second man pulls a roll of duct tape from his jacket and approaches. Nancy tries to scream, but a hard blow from the man's fist silences her. All goes black…

X X X X X

It is the end of a long day for Jack Bauer, and he is trying to wade through the day's action reports as quickly as he can so he can go home at a decent hour - for a change. More reports of Brotherhood members slipping into the L. A. area, including an attempted capture of two members by the Highway Patrol... Three cops dead, four wounded and the two fanatics dead when they blew themselves up inside their van rather than be captured. One odd feature, the van's roof had been rigged so it could be easily removed...but why? Bauer sighs heavily. They have seriously underestimated the Brotherhood's planned attack. With this many reports of sightings, the numbers gathering in L. A. weren't dozens, but hundreds.

Bad luck seemed to plague 'Operation Pureblood' - the taskforce dedicated to stopping the Brotherhood of American Blood and their crazy schemes. If only they could break Hobart Smith, but the leader of the Brotherhood was stubborn and tough. He was giving them nothing, and probably never would. And then there was the missing Brenda Smith... Bauer winces at the thought of the woman he has placed in deadly danger, who is known by so many names: Asset Beta, Brenda Smith, Erica Marx and Alice Sokel, the twin sister of the original Brenda Smith. A little over a year ago, Jack's old friend Agent Saul King was in charge of the detail keeping tabs on Brenda - not that there was much for him to do. Brenda lived a solitary widow's existence in her lonely cabin in the Idaho wilderness. She emerged only about once a month to appear at recruiting meetings, where small groups of men, already angry at the federal government, would listen to the melodramatic tale of how her husband was gunned down by the feds with nothing more than a cell phone in his hand. Brenda was an effective speaker and won many converts to the Brotherhood's cause...

But then, one day while she was fishing in a lake near her cabin, Brenda's boat overturned. Saul rushed to the scene, but it was too late. The Martyr's Widow had hit her head on a rock and drowned. Saul, an outside-the-box thinker, remembered a detail from Brenda's file - she had a twin sister named Alice who was serving a three year sentence at a federal prison. It would be days before anyone noticed Brenda was missing, and that would give them time to put in motion a daring plan...

And so, a reluctant Erica Marx was substituted for her twin. Promises were made: full protection for her family, a pardon for her crimes with an expunging of the record, legal recognition of Charlie and Erica as the true parents of Stevie Marx, and the thanks of a grateful nation. All of this in exchange for just one month of undercover work. Except, Erica turned out to be a prodigy at being a spy. On her own, she announced she was coming out of mourning and wanted to take a more active role in the Brotherhood's activities. The membership was delighted and welcomed her into the fold. The risk of detection was minimal since the only one of the Brotherhood who knew Brenda well was her brother-in-law Hobart, who was overseas making deals with arms merchants. Erica's one month assignment stretched to two, then three and finally, it became open ended. Although not privy to the inner workings of the military side of the organization, Erica's ability to make friends with the various wives and girl friends of the Brotherhood's leaders provided tantalizing tidbits of second hand info.

Now, when her information is the most vital, Erica/Brenda has disappeared, and Jack fears the worse for a woman he has grown to like and admire... A knock on the door interrupts his thoughts.

"Enter."

Agent David Chung, young and eager to prove himself, is here late putting in extra hours. "Sir, can you spare a moment?"

"What have you got, Chung?"

"I was going through the routine daily reports when I came across an addendum to the original arrest report of Hobart Smith. The SWAT sergeant that got the original anonymous tip can now identify his source. He ran into the girl again by accident, and got her name: Joan Girardi."

"And you what, want to send her a letter of thanks?"

"Actually, I did a routine background check. She's 19, a college student in her home town of Arcadia Maryland..."

"Is there a point here?"

"Sir, when I looked deeper into the girl's bacground, I found a red flag designation - security level twelve."

"Twelve? Okay Chung, I'll look into it."

Chung nods and leaves the room. In the entire CTU, only Jack himself has level 12 clearance. Jack types in his security code into his computer, and pauses for the retinal scan necessary to complete the level 12 access. Okay, let's see what's so special about this Joan girl...

As Joan's full security file from Homeland Security pops up on the screen, Jack nods as he remembers her story. In the city of Arcadia, a prominent community leader named Ryan Hunter turned out to be a lunatic who waged war against religious targets in the Arcadia area for nearly a year. The man seemed above reproach, and only one high school girl had it figured out that this Hunter character was the monster responsible for so many acts of violence. Unable to convince anyone, including her cop father, Joan went about collecting enough evidence to finally convince the authorities to act. Hunter, unwilling to allow his arrest, went out in a blaze of glory when he blew up his own office building with himself inside. The community breathed a sigh of relief and proclaimed Joan Girardi a hero. But that wasn't the end. The top secret part of this file was what happened next... Ryan Hunter faked his death, and later kidnapped the Girardi girl with the intent of forcing her to watch while Hunter blew up Arcadia with a nuclear bomb! But somehow the girl was way ahead of this nutjob, and had already deactivated the bomb. Joan was spared from death at the hands of Ryan Hunter when the man's own brother shot and killed him...

Jack automatically enters the name of Dr. John Hunter... Prominent Beverly Hills psychiatrist, specializing in the problems of the young, and at one time, the head shrink for Hogan County Schools (Arcadia). Now living in Brentwood with his only son, Dylan Hunter... That name flashes on the screen, indicating a cross connection to an active file. Jack clicks on the Dylan name and finds him listed as a known associate of...Stevie Marx! What the hell...? Jack returns to Joan's file and finds the last item listed. A caution to all agents not to interfere with Joan Girardi, and to render all requested assistance. Now what jackass could have put that into the file of an ordinary college co-ed? Jack reads the signature at the end of the order: George W. Bush.

Jack grits his teeth, muttering about politicans who interfere with matters of national security. He pushes the intercom button...

"Chung, you still there?"

"Yes sir."

"Come to my office, I have an assignment for you starting tomorrow morning."

"An assignment of my own, sir?" Chung excitedly asks.

"Yeah, there's a girl I want you to follow..."

X X X X X

6-19-07/Tuesday morning.

It is nearly an hour after sunrise, and Joan Girardi sits by the window of the guest bedroom she occupies. She sighs as she finally admits that her tutor-angel isn't going to show up this morning. Was he really this angry? Had he resigned as her tutor? Was he even allowed to do that? Joan's thoughts are interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone, the caller I. D. says: The Friedman.

"Hey Friedman."

"Good morning Joan. I hope it's not to early for my call?"

"Nah, I'm up. Is this about the background check I asked for?"

"Yes, if you'll check your laptop, you'll see I've sent you a complete file. I'm sorry it took so long, but there were a couple of unexpected glitches."

Joan opens the file, and the first thing she sees is a California driver's license for Mick St. John, a handsome man with dark hair listed as being 29 years old and his home address matching his business one.

"As usual, this looks to be an overload of information. Want to boil it down for me?"

"Mick St. John is a licensed private investigator, and as you can see by the tax records I hacked, he's very successful at his job."

"Wow, I had no idea you could make this much as a private detective."

"Only a handful operate at such a high level. He must be a helluva detective. I cross referenced his name with police reports and news accounts - there were only a few connections. Favorable mentions for the occasional assist by the cops, but very few newspaper accounts. Apparently your detective is camera shy, which makes sense considering his line of work."

"So what were the glitches you mentioned?"

"The first was a time factor. There's been a licensed P. I. named Mick St. John in the L. A. area since the late 50's. Since our guy is only 29, I assume he's Mick junior, or maybe even Mick the third. Oddly, I couldn't verify that... Joan?"

Joan has paused, her mind racing with chilling thoughts. Most vampires were careful to change identities and cities every 10 or 15 years, but if one were very fond of his city and occupation... Could this Mick St. John be what her vampire nightmares were about?

"Sorry Friedman, I was thinking and in vacation mode, that's a slow process. You said there was a second glitch?"

"Yeah, this one is a little iffy, but I thought I would mention it in case it was relevant. When I checked St. John's tax records, I found a cross reference to an on-going investigation."

"Of the P. I. ?"

"No, Mick St. John is listed as a known associate of a man named Josef Kostan. Heard of him?"

"No."

"Well, you probably wouldn't unless you kept up with financial news. Kostan is a big time hedge fund manager who specializes in overseas investments. All high risk stuff, but with very high rewards. The I. R. S. and the S. E. C. have been investigating the guy for years."

"That sounds pretty routine for someone operating at such a high level of risky investments."

"I agree, but once I started linking on Kostan's name, I found other investigations that aren't so routine, including the F.B.I., ATF, DEA, and Interpol. It seems that amongst Kostan's many overseas contacts there are a lot of shady characters who know even shadier and very dangerous people, like drug smugglers and arms dealers. I couldn't verify it, but I'll bet the C.I.A. is looking at this guy too. Every one of those investigations list Mick St. John as his only regular contact outside his own organization."

"A billionaire and a private detective - an odd combination. Thanks Friedman, as always I appreciate the work."

"Just remember to put in a good word for me with the Big Guy."

"Friedman..."

"Just joking. I know that's not how God works. We're all judged on our own hearts, and so on."

"Bye Friedman, my best to Dillon."

Joan disconnects and begins reviewing the details in the St. John file.

X X X X X

Later that morning, after getting a rental car courtesy of Kevin, Joan drives downtown to the address of Mick St. John, aided by GPS. She arrives and takes up position in a spot where she can watch the P. I.'s car - a classic Mercedes convertible (info on this courtesy of the efficient Friedman). In less than an hour, Mick leaves the building and heads for his car - reflexively shielding his face from the sun. Joan doesn't need to be close to recognize any vampire. Seen through spiritual eyes, their souls are stained with blood and death.

Leaving her car, Joan enters the classic office building, built sometime in the 1950's. The upper floors have been converted into pricey condos, and as Joan gets on the elevator, a young Asian-American man joins her. As they ride to one of the upper floors, in fact the same floor, Joan senses the young man's intense interest in her, even though he is trying hard not to show it. Flattering, but Joan is too focused on her current mission to pay much attention to her admirer. The elevator stops, and Joan waits for the man to step off first. He hesitates, and then proceeds down the corridor. It isn't until the man is out of sight around the corner that Joan proceeds to the door with the sign: Mick St. John, Private Investigator.

Checking to make sure she is unobserved, Joan starts to work on the door's lock. Lockpicking is a skill she picked up during her war with Ryan, and Joan has kept in practice. This particular door is heavily reinforced, and has an electronic opener, but fortunately people don't fully trust such devices, and there is a conventional lock that quickly surrenders to Joan's skill with lockpicks.

Meanwhile, down the hallway and just around the corner, Agent David Chung excitedly watches Joan enter. This is the first time Chung has been on a solo assignment, and following a teenage co-ed seemed to be a dull start. That's what's so exciting about this business, you never know what to expect. Chung calls CTU on his cell...

"Bauer."

"Agent Chung here, sir. I'm following the Girardi girl as ordered, and something extraordinary has happened. The girl went directly to the office of a private detective named Mick St. John, where she picked the door lock and just entered."

"Any sign of the detective?"

"The girl waited until a man in a Mercedes convertible left the area. License plate: Charles Baker Sierra, six sixty-six."

"Alright Chung, stick with it, and I'll get back to you."

X X X X X

In the warehouse hideout of the Brotherhood, Nancy Mirren sits on the floor of a small closet, hancuffed and miserable. All night she has been yelled at, slapped around and threatened if she doesn't talk. The problem is, she has never heard of this Brenda Smith they keep asking about. Nancy has sworn as convincingly as possible that she is clueless as to what this is all about. She didn't take a photo of this 'Brenda'. She photographed a woman who looks like someone she served time with...

Through the night the same questions were repeated as they waited for the film from her camera to be developed at one of the dwindling number of places that still processed film. Only the details of Nancy's two years for income tax evasion seemed to elicit any degree of sympathy from the harsh men who questioned her - oddballs, who kept referring to each other by military ranks. These jerks didn't belong to any army she has ever seen. Finally tired themselves, they locked Nancy in this closet and went away.

But now, there is a stir amongst those outside this door. An intense level of excitement that Nancy can both hear and sense. Somthing very important to these men is occuring now... The closet door swings open, and Nancy is hauled to her feet and marched to another room where a doctor is examining a man who looks to have been put through hell. The reverence paid to this weary newcomer is intense.

"The prisoner, General. Sir, are you sure you're up to this?"

The man nods while examining a photograph in his hand. He shows Nancy the picture...

"This is the woman you photographed? The one you meant to take a picture of?"

Nancy gulps and nods. "Y-Yes, that's Erica Marx, who was in my cell block until..."

"Until?"

"A couple of federal agents took her from her cell in the middle of the night over a year ago. They told everyone she was dead, from a heart attack, but Erica walked out of there on her own. I was sure she was alive, and that photo proves it. Now I'm glad I sent that letter."

"Letter?"

"Erica has an adopted daughter named Stevie Marx. As soon as I got out, I sent an anonymous letter to Stevie telling her the truth. I guess that's why that private detective's card was on my front door. Stevie must be looking for me."

The 'General' looks to one of his subordinates. "Any chance this detective has connected this case with our activities?"

Captain Carlisle replies, "It's unlikely, but just to be sure, I've dispatched a team to question and then deal with this Mick St. John."

"Acceptable. Now Miss Mirren, what are we to do with you?"

"Please, I don't know anything. Can't you be merciful? I told you all I know."

"Unfortunately, you have mistaken this 'Erica' woman for an important member of our organization. We can't let you go, at least not yet. Since you have done us no deliberate harm, we will merely detain you until Saturday night. After that, we can let you go."

Nancy quivers with emotional relief. "Thank you. Oh God, thank you so much. I've never been so scared, not even when I was in prison."

The General chuckles. "That was only minimum security. Trust me, the damn feds can treat you to much worse. Captain, make sure our guest is carefully guarded, but made reasonably comfortable."

"Yes sir. This way, Miss."

Nancy is trembling so much, she needs help standing. "I wish I had never gotten involved with Erica, her daughter or any of this. Next time I'll keep my nose out of other people's business. Why should I care about the peace of mind of the girl Erica kidnapped as a child..."

"What's that?" the General asks.

"Oh, Erica's original crime was kidnapping, but the charges were plea bargained down because she took the kid to save her life."

"Two more questions. Was Erica a social worker from Texas, and was her real name...Alice Sokel?"

"Well, yes to both, but Erica abandoned the Alice Sokel name a long time ago."

Hobart Smith, pales as he remembers his sister-in-law's maiden name of Sokel...

X X X X X

Back at CTU, Jack Bauer has been reviewing the information available on the private detective, Mick St. John and his numerous mentions in investigations of his friend and associate, Josef Kostan. A billionaire and a private detective - an unusual combo. This Kostan character is an enigma, one that Jack can't fathom. Why would a man as rich and as powerful as Kostan associate with so many low-life criminal types around the world? There has never been provable direct contact between Kostan and these various criminals, a legal fiction of deniability, but the pattern is clear. Further, deeper probes show several cross references to the arms merchants Hobart Smith has been visiting the last two years...

A knock on the door is followed by the hasty entrance of Agent Saul King. "Jack, bad news."

"Is there any other kind? What now?"

"There's been a commando raid right in front of the federal detention center. One of the armored vehicles transferring prisoners was hit, and two guards are dead, with several more wounded. It's been utter chaos down there, and we only just now received the official report."

Jack gets a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Who was it? Who was sprung?"

"Hobart Smith."

"Damn it! Who authorized the transfer of Smith from here?"

"A federal judge. Smith's lawyer finally conivnced Judge Dock that our claim of national security didn't over ride Smith's right to consult with his attorney. Jack, Smith got away clean. Our units are already searching..."

"But you can bet this was a well thought out plan. " Jack dryly remarks while bitterly muttering against pea-brained judges. "Fine, continue the search, and have the head of legal step in here. We're going back to His Honor, Judge Horace Dock, and we are going to use this blunder to pressure the man to issue a search warrant he normally would never allow. We're going after a billionaire..."

X X X X X

In Mick St. John's condo, Joan has completed her quick tour of the vampire detective's condo. She knows she has limited time, but curiosity got the better of her. The master bedroom revealed what she has been taught about vampires, but could hardly believe - he really does sleep in a commercial freezer. It doesn't take Joan long to find the hidden panel in the kitchen that hides Mick's supply of blood - most of it in medical bags, but some of it in ordinary wine bottles. Weird. The most surprising item in the condo is a large, open fireplace - one of those rock crystal kind where the flame is always going. Considering how vulnerable vampires are to fire, Joan has to wonder if this Mick guy is in a certain level of denial about his condition. Surely not all vamps enjoyed being blood suckers?

Curiosity satisfied, Joan turns to her purpose for being here. Why was Stevie involved with a private detective, vampire or otherwise? In the office area near the window, Joan finds a lot of file cabinets, but they are old cases stretching back for decades. This vampire is really stretching his luck by maintaining the same identity for so long. Unfortunately, all paper files end after the early 90's. Despite the vampire detective's fondness for classic cars, he is fully up to date computer-wise. Joan sighs, wishing she had been able to grasp the lessons Friedman tried to give her in computer hacking. Still, even in the electronic age, people wrote things down. After picking the lock on the desk, Joan begins going through all of the papers she finds. It doesn't take her long to find a copy of the letter from, 'A Friend'. Joan gasps as she reads the contents. Can it be true? Is Erica Marx still alive?

Suddenly, Joan senses danger. The spiritual stench of blood and death is in the room, and Joan realizes she is not alone...

"Well, it's not often I catch a thief in my own office." a grim faced Mick St. John remarks.

Joan looks up and trembles, remembering God's warning that not even she is safe in the company of a vampire. In a few moments, would she still be alive?

To Be Continued. Please review.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

In a small, pleasant neighborhood park a couple of blocks from her home, Stevie Marx has enjoyed a long, romantic picnic lunch with her boyfriend Dylan. Stevie cherishes these moments, and is thrilled that they seem to be coming more frequently. In fact, Dylan has barely left her side these last three days. Stevie wonders if this is Dylan's way of reassuring her because Joan is in town, or if he is ready to make a deeper commitment to their relationship…

"Have you decided if you'll stay in Brentwood after your dad and Felicity marry next month?"

Dylan hesitates as this is a delicate subject for him. As his father and Felicity have grown closer, Dylan has had to firmly discipline his mind not to think of Felicity in…that way. Unfortunately, he is less successful in controlling his dreams, which have been filled with wild, erotic images of Felicity—much to Dylan's shame. Part of the reason he gave in to Stevie's push for a more intimate relationship was the need for a release valve of the sexual energy that built up in him every time he was around Felicity. Not that he isn't enormously fond of, and attracted to Stevie, but still, the guilt…

"I promised Dad when he bought the new house that I would be staying with him during my college years, but things have changed. I can't help but feel awkward around Dad and Felicity, and if we have to share the same house…" Dylan shakes his head.

"So, you're getting a place of your own?"

"I don't see that I have any other choice."

"Well, you could always…live with me." Stevie says, her voice trembling slightly.

Dylan pauses again, not wanting to make a hasty decision, but not wanting to offend Stevie. "That's…a pretty big commitment. Are you sure you're ready for such a major step?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it. The question is, how do you feel about living together?"

"Uh, I have to be honest, I have my reservations. Don't get me wrong, I've loved the last few nights, and I really would like to continue, but living together full time…? I know you think my beliefs are old fashioned, but it's been difficult for me to go beyond the no pre-marital sex idea. Living together seems to be a flouting of God's plan for couples."

"How would living together be any more…immoral than what we've been doing? Aren't you splitting hairs?"

"So, you're saying you don't see this as a bigger thing—a deeper commitment? That our hearts and souls won't be more deeply committed, and the potential for hurt much greater if this didn't work out?"

This time Stevie pauses, seeing Dylan's point. What if they did find out they weren't compatible? Wouldn't it be a far greater heartbreak for both of them? Stevie knows, after the tragedies of the last two years, she couldn't take another major emotional blow… Stevie tries to look in Dylan's eyes, to judge his mood, but once again he is distracted. Why does he keep looking around as if expecting something terrible was about to spring on them?

Dylan points to a distant part of the park. "Have you noticed that guy?"

"The twitchy little dude sitting in the shade?"

"Yeah, we've been here almost two hours, and he hasn't moved."

"So?"

"And he hasn't stopped watching the kids on the playground."

"Oh. You don't think…? A molester?"

"I don't want to take the chance of leaving him there, in case I'm right. Stay here, I won't be long."

"Dylan, be careful."

Dylan nods, but he is unconcerned as he approaches the man on the bench. 'Twitchy little dude' is a perfect description, and Dylan has no doubt he can handle the man if the situation escalates. As he walks closer, Dylan realizes he never would have noticed this particular stranger if it weren't for God's warning to guard Stevie. Ever since, he has been carefully observing each situation for any potential danger…

On the park bench, 'Leo' observes the approach by the tall, muscle-bound stranger and sighs. In his 25 years as a vampire, Leo has had to endure this scenario more times than he can count. Damn, he is tired of being hassled by every 'concerned citizen' who has judged him to be…strange. He is only watching the little kiddies, and yes, they stimulate an almost irresistible urge in him, but only for their blood. Every vampire knew, the younger your food, the less free radicals and the better the taste. A child, especially one of your own blood type, gives you the greatest replenishment and the greatest taste. Yeah, the blood of a small child is like an exotic narcotic that makes you feel like a god…

Dylan sits by the strange little man and asks, "Having fun?"

"I'm not doing anything wrong." Leo whines. It is true. New to the L. A. area, Leo dutifully registered himself with the community leaders who enforce the vampire code. It is Leo's legal right to hunt for food, but even vampires—at least most of them—found child hunting disgusting. It made Leo a pariah, even amongst his own kind. The rules were made clear: leave the little ones alone. The disappearance of a small child, (or worse, the finding of one of their blood drained bodies), drew too much risky publicity to the community.

"You've been here at least two hours, staring at the little kids."

"And why not? Children are a precious gift and should be appreciated like flowers and sunsets."

"No one molests flowers or sunsets."

"How dare you! I would never do something so horrid."

For a moment, Dylan hesitates. The little guy's outrage seems genuine. How could Dylan know that Leo has no interest in those small bodies, except for their blood…

"Time to move along." Dylan insists.

"And if I don't?" Leo asks, knowing he has the power to shred this arrogant do-gooder.

"Then the next person you talk to will be a cop."

"Fine, I'm gone." Leo replies through gritted teeth. He stands to leave, still not afraid, but wisely concerned about the mention of the police. The last thing any vampire will risk is imprisonment. There is no way to conceal what you are behind bars.

Dylan adds a parting shot. "I better not see you again in this neighborhood."

For Leo, this is the last straw. He has had too many years of punks like this telling him to move along. Carefully, Leo captures the tall guy's scent as he leaves. ('Oh, I'll be back Mister Big and Arrogant, and I'll make you pay. You and that pretty girlfriend I saw you with…')

X X X X X

In the office area of the old warehouse now being used as a base of operation for the Brotherhood, Hobart Smith talks with one of his aides, security chief Captain Carlisle…

"Sokel was Brenda's maiden name."

"So this Erica Marx the prisoner mentioned is really Alice Sokel, Miss Brenda's sister?"

"Twin sister. Way back when I was still a deputy sheriff, Brenda told me about her 'black sheep' sister. Alice was a social worker who became obsessed with a child whose case she was assigned. Bridget Berkin, as I recall. The mother was a drug addict who neglected the child dreadfully, and the county even took the child away for its' own good. Of course the stupid, bleeding heart court immediately gave the kid back to the druggie…" (Hobart pauses. He has a passionate hatred of drug users, considering them the bane of modern existence. When they had their own country, there would be no multi-billion dollar DEA to fight drug smugglers and dealers. Eliminating the user was the solution.) "Anyway, Alice couldn't take the failure of the system any more, and stole the child—going underground. Brenda never heard from her sister again, and was ashamed of her actions. Frankly, I admired Alice Sokel for her proactive way of dealing with a failed system."

"But if the prisoner is right, this Alice has been substituted for our Miss Brenda. Is that possible?"

Hobart shrugs. "Possible? Sure, I wouldn't put anything beyond the devious minds at Homeland Security…but is it true? This might be an elaborate sting by the government to get us to doubt a key player in our own organization. We have to be sure. Accusing 'Brenda' of being a government spy will shake the confidence of every member of this organization, and if we're wrong…well, I can't risk harming my late brother's wife. It's time for a family reunion. It won't take me long to discover the truth, and thanks to the Nancy Mirren woman, we have something to hold over Alice Sokel if that proves necessary."

"What's that, sir?"

"The life of the daughter that Alice sacrificed everything for. Locate Stevie Marx, and have a team standing by to take her prisoner…"

X X X X X

In Mick St. John's home, Joan stares at the vampire detective and gulps hard. The 'man' is displaying a mix of annoyance and bemusement at her intrusion, but Joan remains wary...

"Mr. St. John, I suppose you're wondering why I'm here?"

In response Mick snatches away the letter from 'A Friend' that Joan is holding. "What are you doing going through my private papers, and how the hell did you get in here?"

"I'm a friend of Stevie Marx, and I picked your lock."

"That lock? It's the best on the market."

Joan shrugs. "What can I say, I'm good with locks. I'm also an incurable snoop. That's why when I found out Stevie hired a private detective, I had to know what is going on. So, she hired you to find her missing mother?"

"No, to find the author of this anonymous letter, and I don't usually discuss my client's business with strangers. I assume Miss Marx doesn't know you are here?"

"Uh no, and by the way, the name is Joan Girardi."

"Well Joan, I have no choice but to call the police."

"Okay, I understand. You have to do what you have to do, but then, so do I."

"What does that mean?"

"When the police ask why I broke in here, I'll have to tell them the truth. That I was worried because my friend was associating with...a vampire."

Mick hesitates for a moment and then forces a false smile on his face. "Are you an escapee from a mental institution?"

"Let's leave my mental health history out of this. I know what you are, 'Mick' and I'm here to give you fair warning. If Stevie dies, or you turn her or even make her one of your freshies, I will go Lone Ranger on your ass."

Mick responds by 'vamping out'. Just as Joan has seen in movies and TV shows, the vampire's eyes go completely white, and fangs instantly appear along with an animalistic snarl... "You're playing a dangerous game. I could easily kill you."

"Doubt it, but even if you do, others know about you and will act if anything happens to me."

Mick reverts back to a normal appearance and chuckles. "You've got guts, I'll give you that, but I know you're lying. How did you learn of my kind, and with such great detail - our vulnerability to silver, and about freshies?"

"Lots of people know about vampires."

"As legends and urban myths - our existence is taken with less seriousness than sightings of UFO's and the Loch Ness Monster. You have real, generally unknown knowledge."

"Okay, this might be hard for you to believe, but I am an instrument of God, and I was taught about vampires by my tutor, who is a 25 foot tall angel."

Mick stares at Joan, a look of pity in his eyes...

Joan shouts, "I'm not crazy! How else would I know that silver in your blood will paralyze you, the same as a wooden stake through your heart? Or that 'freshies' are those humans who willingly let vampires feed on them for the perverse sensual thrill it gives? Or that the only way to kill a vampire is by beheading or fire? By the way, why would any vampire risk having a fireplace?"

"It came with the condo, and I like watching the flames."

For several moments, Mick stares into the fire, obviously brooding over old memories. Vampires aren't as easy to read as humans, but Joan senses a lot of bitterness and pain...

"You don't much like being a vampire."

Mick gives a quick grin. "It sucks."

Joan chuckles, and is surprised by the good vibes she is getting from Mick. There is still a lot of humanity left in him. "How did it happen? How were you turned?"

"It was on my wedding night. I learned the hard way that my new bride was a vampire."

"Ouch."

"In more ways than one. From Coraline's perspective, she was giving me a precious gift - immortality. From my perspective, she turned me into a monster - not to mention the enormous risk she took with my life."

"The process is dangerous?"

"Far more than most people know. To be turned into a vampire, the victim must have most of his blood drained from his body, and taken to the very edge of death. Then the vampire's blood must be forced down the victim's throat, but it must be timed perfectly. Too soon, and the victim experiences an enormous rush, like being on the world's most powerful narcotic. But that is followed by multiple organ failures and a painful death."

"And too late...?"

"Vampire blood can do a lot, but it can't raise the dead. Of course that's just the start. Every new vampire has an initial stage where the need for blood is extreme, and it drives you mad. In those early days, you would gladly slaughter your entire family for just one more drop of blood. That's when your sire is suppose to guide you through the transition. Eventually, if all goes well, you adapt to the change. Many never successfully make that transition."

"They become rogues that have to be put down."

Mick nods. "You certainly know your vampires. Yes, with some, the blood madness never abates. I've even heard of rare cases where the transformation to vampire works, but the victim never awakens. They remain in a coma, an unaging vampire until starvation kills them."

"Wow, I can see why no one volunteers to be a vampire."

"Actually, many do. That's the primary motivation for freshies to serve vamps. The do get a 'perverse' thrill from the experience, but most are hoping to ingratiate themselves with the vampire so he will turn them - despite the risk. The lure of immortality is worth the danger in many people's minds, but I could never condemn anyone to this lifestyle. That's why I keep no freshies, and why your friend Stevie is safe around me."

Joan senses Mick is telling the truth. "That's a relief. So, you'd consider yourself a modernist?"

"You know about that too?"

"I'm aware there's a struggle between the traditionalists who mostly hunt humans for food, and the modernists who get their blood from other sources like blood banks, morgues and freshies."

"The word 'struggle' might be too strong. I see it as more of an evolutionary process. Modern vamps realize the world is changing, and we have to adapt or perish. We work hard to maintain our secret, because our greatest fear is that our existence will be proven to the world, and that will lead to genocide. More and more vampires are being persuaded to give up 'the hunt' for the safety of all."

"Then why not just ban hunting humans?"

"Because most of the old vampires are dedicated to the traditional life, and vampires become stronger as they age."

"And would one of those old vamps be Josef Kostan?"

Mick hesitates. "How do you know about Josef?"

"When I had my I. T. guy check you out, your name kept popping up as a known associate of Kostan's. There's a whole alphabet soup of government agencies investigating your friend. Apparently he is more than a rich investment manager with overseas contacts. He runs with some very dangerous characters, like drug smugglers and arms merchants."

"And you concluded Josef was involved with those activities too, just like the government. I can assure you, Josef does not deal in drugs or munitions."

"Then why does he buddy-up to scum like that?"

"Josef is one of the leaders of our community, and because of his vast resources, he is sometimes called upon to help a vampire in need. From time to time, a vampire will get into deep trouble and will have to flee the area. Usually it's just a matter of a new city with a new name, but sometimes it's more serious. The vampire needs to get out of the country quickly and illegally, and that's where Josef's shady contacts come in handy. They are experts at illegally moving cargoes all over the world, for a fee. Unfortunately, there's no way to explain that to the feds, so Josef takes the heat in order to protect his own kind."

"But that also brings a lot of scrutiny your way. One heads-up, you need to cover your tracks a little better. My I. T. guy saw that 'Mick St. John' has been a private detective in L. A. for over fifty years. You might want to start referring to yourself as 'junior' or even 'the third'."

"I'll keep that in mind..."

The door bell interrupts their conversation. Mick goes to a panel on the wall and activates a monitor. Four men can be seen standing outside the door, silenced pistols at the ready.

"Friends of yours?" Mick asks.

Joan shakes her head. "Strangers to me. Obviously they're after you, and they have no clue what they are walking into."

"Well, I can't just leave them standing in the hall where they could be a danger to anyone who comes along. Go upstairs and hide, and I'll see what these charming visitors want."

Joan nods her agreement and heads for the stairs. A battle between gunmen and a vampire was no place for a spiritual warrior. "Be careful. Not even vampires are invulnerable."

"I can take care of myself..." Mick says as he waits for Joan to complete her run up the stairs.

X X X X X

In Jack Bauer's office, he is being briefed by the head of CTU's legal department...

"The judge refused a search warrant on Josef Kostan."

"After the blunder he made authorizing Hobart Smith's transfer? He owes us. Two federal guards are dead because of his honor's mistake."

"And Judge Dock is suitably remorseful, but he had to recuse himself from the matter because of a conflict of interest."

"Which is...?"

"The judge has a sizable portion of his investment portfolio with Kostan International. We're shopping around for a more co-operative judge, but a man like Kostan has a lot of pull, and no one wants to cross him based solely on your hunch, sir."

Jack's temper flares, but before he can express himself, his desk phone rings - the line reserved for agents on active assignments.

"Bauer."

"Sir, it's Agent Chung. Four armed men have just arrived outside St. John's home, and I recognize one of them as being a member of the Brotherhood!"

"Hang on Chung, I'm sending back-up. Do not, I repeat, do not engage. Wait until help arrives."

"Yes sir." Chung dutifully replies as he disconnects. He watches as the door to the detective's home opens and the four men rush in. Unable to resist knowing more, Chung pulls his gun and approaches the door. It has been left ajar, and by getting very close, Chung can hear all that is happening...

"Gentlemen, I don't usually get armed visitors to my home. Care to explain?" says a voice, no doubt St. John's.

"Keep your hands where we can see them. Are you alone?"

"As you can see, no one is here but me. Do be careful with that gun. It might go off."

"Shut up! We're here for information, and you're going to co-operate or we'll kill you and find it ourselves. You were recently at the home of a woman named Nancy Mirren. Why?"

"That involves the private business of one of my clients. Why are you asking?"

"We ask the questions..." the voice says, followed by the sound of a blow. Chung wonders how long he can wait while doing nothing. After all, there's a teenage girl in danger...

Suddenly, Chung hears a sound like an animal snarling. There follows shouts and yelps of pain while the 'cough' sound of silencers fill the air. This goes on for a short time longer, and then all is quiet. Chung listens closer, now detecting moans of pain. Shaky voices again begin to speak...

"God, what was that?"

"I-I don't know. Did you see the way he took two rounds in the chest and barely winced? Do you think he was on drugs?"

"I don't know. He was tossing us around like rag dolls. If I hadn't managed to get a bullet in the back of his head, this St. John guy would have whipped us all."

"What do we do now, Sergeant? We can't get answers from a dead man."

"And we don't have time to search the whole place. We burn it all."

Just outside the door, David Chung has heard enough. Mick St. John is dead, and these lunatics haven't found the Girardi girl yet. Their plan to burn the condo will endanger every person in this building. Despite orders, he must act now. Pistol ready, Chung slams open the door...

"Federal agent!"

To the men of the Brotherhood, no more provocative words can be said. They react as one, firing at Chung, who manages to get off one shot of his own. One of the brotherhood drops to the floor, fatally shot, but Chung is slammed back into the hallway, dying from his wounds before he even hits the floor.

"Let's get out of here!" the team leader shouts, knowing more agents must be on the way.

The three remaining men run from the room, and the elevator instantly opens for them. They again conceal their weapons so they can make a casual exit out the lobby of the building. Upstairs, Joan listens carefully, deciding the excitement is now over. Leaving the cover of Mick's freezer where she has been hiding, Joan cautiously descends the stairs. The sight awaiting her is horrific. The main room of the condo is a mess, and clearly shows a battle has been fought here. There is a stranger on the floor next to Mick, their blood mixing into a common pool. The stranger is one of the ones Joan saw on the monitor, and he is beyond hope. Joan knows that Mick, although he appears dead, will recover. The worse you could do to a vampire with a gun is to put a bullet in his brain, which will cause blood loss and unconciousness. Most of the time, bullets in a vampire will simply be expelled by the vamp's amazing immune system. Occasionally, a bullet will get stuck and someone will have to extract it. Joan hopes she is not stuck with this gruesome task.

In the doorway, half way out into the hall, Joan recognizes the young Asian-American man who rode up with her in the elevator. She kneels beside him and checks his I. D. Agent David Chung, Homeland Security - attached to CTU. Joan realizes the young agent must have been following her ('You egomaniac, you thought he found you cute'). Why was Homeland Security following her? Joan knows the feds have occasionally checked up on her to assure themselves she is keeping the secret about Ryan Hunter and his nuke, but this is too coincidental. Before Joan can do any more, the elevator at the end of the hall dings, and five armed men rush into the hall.

"Federal agents, freeze!"

Joan raises her hands in surrender...

X X X X X

Early that evening, sixteen year old Hassan goes about his job of cleaning the convenience store where he has a part time job. He and his family have only been in America for five weeks, and he speaks almost no English. Hassan still isn't sure if the move to America to escape the war at home was a good idea. True, they are safer, but life here is a hard adjustment. The convenience store, near a business/warehouse district, has a steady stream of working class customers who seem to have no idea how good their lives are. Hassan often hears them grumbling, although he is not sure about what. These Americans always seem to have endless topics to complain about. If they only knew the life he has endured, they would be on their knees thanking God for how blessed their lives are.

Americans, complainers and slobs - all of them. Still, their messiness gives him the job he needs. They always expect someone will come along and clean whatever mess they leave behind. Someone like Hassan. After finishing the sweeping of the floor, Hassan moves on to the 'snack bar' where drinks, hot dogs, burritos and egg rolls are available, self-serve style. Hassan sighs. Truly, these people are as 'clean' as pigs. As Hassan begins to wipe away the various spilled condiments, he notices the napkin dispenser is nearly empty. He secures a fresh supply from under the cabinet, and as he lifts the dispenser to refill it, Hassan spots a stamped envelope. Some foolish person has left behind a piece of mail - typical. Hassan's first instinct is to take the envelope to the mail box on the corner, but he hesitates. People sometimes sent cash through the mail. He knows he shouldn't, but Hassan carefully opens the envelope. He and his family are always in great need, and besides, these rich Americans can afford to lose a few dollars...

Success! Hassan manages to open the envelope without tearing it. Now, if there is no money, he can reseal the envelope and put it in the post. What is the American saying? No harm, no foul. There is no money, curse his luck. Hassan glances briefly at the contents of the single piece of paper, and frowns. These are not words. The page is filled with groupings of letters and numbers - a code. Hassan nervously looks over his shoulder. In his experience, only two types of people sent coded messages - criminals and government spies. Quickly, Hassan rips the message into tiny pieces and drops it in with the trash. Hassan hopes no one has noticed, and desperately wishes he had followed his first instinct. God forgive me for not being honest...

X X X X X

At CTU headquarters, Joan sits in a sound proof interrogation room, handcuffed to the table. It has been hours since she was dragged into this facility, along with a groggy Mick St. John. (Joan smiles as she remembers the startled expressions of the frederal agents when the 'dead' Mick suddenly revived, compalining of a simple blow to the head.) Joan knows Mick is in the room next door, but isn't sure of much else. One thing she knows, the vampire lost a lot of blood and he will need to feed soon. No matter how modern Mick may be, the longer he is without blood, the closer he will approach a state of blood madness. Eventually, he will lose control and start to feed. Then, every person in this facility will be in danger.

Even worse, if the vampire community becomes aware that Mick is locked up, they will not stand idly by while their secret is revealed. If they must, the vamps will storm this building and kill everyone here. It is only a matter of time before one of these scenarios takes place. Joan's only hope is Friedman. While the feds were being startled by Mick's 'resurrection', she managed to send a hasty text: CTU, plan 6. Friedman would know what to do, but his efforts will take time. Time they may not have.

The door to the interrogation room swings open, and a man with thinning blond hair enters. Joan can tell he is a harsh man with an overwhelming sense of duty. Joan gulps hard as she senses the depths this man will go through to get answers...

Jack Bauer slaps a file folder on to the table and stares grimly at the young woman who nervously watches his every move.

"I'm Jack Bauer, and I run this facility. You are Joan Girardi, seemingly an innocent co-ed, but I know better. Young lady, you are in a lot of trouble..."

To Be Continued. Please review.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

6-20-07/Wednesday.

Barbara Greyson watches Kevin as he stares out the front window of their apartment. Barbara is concerned because even though Kevin has advanced to the point in his recovery where he only needs a cane, at the end of a long stressful day, Kevin leans heavily on that cane and begins to limp…

"Kevin, for heaven's sake, sit down before you fall down."

Kevin nods and tiredly flops into a recliner. "I never should have rented Joan a car. She isn't use to driving in a city the size of L. A."

"Don't jump to conclusions. Joan is a good driver, and Arcadia isn't exactly a wide spot in the road. I'm sure she's okay."

"Then where is she? Joan knows better than to stay out after midnight without calling. And why isn't she answering her cell? Something must be wrong…" Kevin says, his words choking off with emotion.

"Hey, don't go there. There are lots of possibilities for a 19 year old co-ed to be…uh, distracted. Maybe Joan went clubbing, or maybe she met a cute guy… Not that I think she's the kind of girl who would be an easy pick-up…"

Kevin drums his fingers on the arm of the chair while considering the possibilities. "Call Dylan."

"Hey, that's not funny. My brother is in a committed relationship with Stevie. He wouldn't cheat on her with an old girlfriend."

"You never saw them together when they were a couple back in Arcadia. They had an intense relationship going, and I saw how they kept looking at each other Sunday morning. Trust me, the spark is still there. Barbara, please, I just want to know if Joan is safe. I won't judge what she and Dylan might be up to. Please?"

Barbara sighs and dials Dylan's cell. Kevin might not judge those two, but she knew she would be very disappointed in Dylan if it were true…

In Stevie Marx's bedroom, Dylan—always a light sleeper—grabs his phone after the first note of his ringtone. He glances over to Stevie, but she is still sleeping peacefully. Quickly and quietly, he steps out into the hall… "Hello?"

"Dylan, I'm sorry to be calling so late…"

"Barb? What's wrong?"

"Little brother, please don't hate me for asking this, but…is Joan with you? I wouldn't normally ask, but Kevin is worried sick."

"Joan is missing?"

"Then she's not with you?"

"No, of course not. I'm…with Stevie."

"Oh."

"You were aware she and I…?"

"Yeah, I figured, but I didn't know you were at the point were you were spending the night together. Mazeltov."

"Uh, thanks. But what about Joan?"

"Kev rented her a car this morning, and we haven't heard from her since. We can't even get her on her cell."

"Can I help?"

"Like searching the whole city? Thanks, but right now all we can do is wait. We can't even report her as a missing person for 48 hours. Go back to sleep, and I'll call if we hear anything."

Barbara disconnects and Dylan stands there torn between his duty to guard Stevie and an almost over whelming desire to search for Joan. Before returning to the bedroom, Dylan decides to make his usual check of the doors and windows. As he glances out the window looking over the backyard, he sees a shadow briefly shift position. Was that his imagination, or is there someone skulking around out there? Dylan goes to the second floor security panel and hits the floodlights along with the button that notifies the security company…

"Triple Z Security, what's your problem?"

"This is customer Jay-Jay-Dee, four-oh-seven—reporting a possible prowler in the backyard."

"Hold on sir, we have a unit just two blocks away. Stay inside, and we will get right back to you."

"Thanks." Dylan replies as he continues to watch the yard…

Out in Stevie's backyard, in the deep shadows amongst tall bushes, Leo has heard Dylan's conversation. Curse the bad luck! This neighborhood is way too security conscious to be vampire friendly. There were motion detectors, security cameras and dogs (lots of dogs) everywhere. And now some rent-a-cop will be here within minutes. Not that Leo is scared of some security guard, but if he took out the guard, more would follow—along with the cops. Okay Muscles, you win this time but I'll be back, and next time, I'll make you watch as I drain your girlfriend dry…

X X X X X

At CTU, Jack Bauer stands in the hallway outside the interrogation rooms trying to regain his composure. Something strange is going on, and Jack can't wrap his mind around these odd circumstances. From Room A, the unit's doctor-on-call emerges and shakes his head…

"He's getting worse. Mr. St. John is feverish, shaking uncontrollably and becoming incoherent. I recommend we immediately transfer him to the hospital."

"No, the last time we transferred someone out of this facility, two guards were killed. Is there any possibility the man is faking this?"

"I don't see how. He might have swallowed some sort of poison to cause these symptoms, but I doubt it. He had a head wound when he came in?"

Jack nods. "The agents that dragged him in here said he was bleeding profusely from the back of his head. Frankly, they never thought he would survive the trip to CTU, but by the time he got here, he seemed much better."

"Well, I can only see a small scar where he may have bumped his head against something hard. Still, the man did manage to mumble something about needing a blood transfusion, Type A. But I'm more worried about brain damage. The man may have a concussion, and could slip into a coma. Agent Bauer, I urge you to send him to a facility where he can get better treatment than he can get here."

"I'll consider it. Continue to monitor him."

The doctor sighs and nods his agreement. He returns to his patient as Agent Saul King leaves Room B, looking concerned and a little shaky himself…

"That girl…"

"You sensed it too?" Jack asks, glad to have confirmation.

"Yeah, there's something about her… She looks at you with that adorable smile, and you feel an almost over whelming desire to protect her, but then you have these incredible sensations of…lust." Saul pauses to wipe sweat from his brow. "Jack, I'm a happily married man, and that's not just a phrase with me. In thirty years of marriage, I've never once considered cheating on Estelle, but with this Joan… Damn it, I'm old enough to be her grandfather!"

"I know what you mean. I have a daughter Joan's age, and I haven't been attracted to teenage girls since I was a teenager, but Joan…" Jack sighs.

"Yeah, and have you noticed how we've both fallen into the habit of calling her Joan, as if she were a friend instead of a suspect?"

"I know. I ought to be leaning on her hard, getting the truth about what her connections are to the Brotherhood and Chung's death." Jack hesitates, seeing the distress on his long time friend's face. "Saul, you can't blame yourself. Chung disobeyed orders when he went in without back-up."

"Yeah…but I was suppose to train the kid beyond what they teach in the text books and at the academy. He was suppose to get his field experience through me, but I failed him."

"Hey, if you're looking for someone to blame, try me. I sent Chung out alone on his first solo assignment. I should have picked someone more experienced."

"Jack, you couldn't have known there was any risk in this. How could anyone anticipate danger following a teenage co-ed?"

X X X X X

Across town on the top floor of a luxurious new office building, Josef Kostan watches the numerous computer monitors lining the room, calculating the odds of profit from a wide variety of investments and their subtle clues. Normally he would be headed home for a final sip from a freshie and the bliss of his freezer, but disturbing trends in the Asian commodities markets were keeping him at the office later than usual.

"Sir, a call from Guillermo at the morgue. He says it's urgent."

A momentary look of annoyance crosses Josef's face. Guillermo is a vampire who works in the morgue and supplies corpse blood to a large number of the community. Josef is not a customer, considering such fare beneath him, but he is aware Mick gets most of his blood that way.

"Guillermo, if you're having a going out of business sale, you've picked the wrong potential buyer…"

"Mr. Kostan, I'm sorry to disturb you sir, but I just came on duty and there's a situation you need to be aware of."

"I'm listening."

"Two new bodies were brought in earlier this evening, both dead from gunshot wounds. One of them was a federal agent, and the rumor is, the other guy is some sort of terrorist."

"And these human affairs concern me how?"

"I also detected the smell of vampire blood mixed with the bodies of the humans. I checked, and the corpses came from a crime scene that was Mick's condo. One of the cops confided that Mick was arrested and taken to the Counter Terrorism Unit's headquarters."

"Is that all you know?"

"So far, but I'll keep checking around. Sir, Mick isn't just a customer, he's a friend. If I can help in any way…"

"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you Guillermo, I won't forget this service you have done us."

Josef disconnects and then addresses the room. "Stop whatever you are doing. We have an emergency. Mick St. John has been arrested by the goons at CTU, and he was wounded. First, get hold of our lawyers—all of them. Their number one priority is to get Mick out of there."

All of the 'men' present are vampires, and use to obeying Josef's every command. As one of them begins dialing the head of the legal department, he comments, "The humans will all be asleep, and reluctant to get started on this in the middle of the night."

"For what I pay them, they better be ready to give their all, 24 hours a day. Sinclair, send one of the cars to monitor activity at CTU, and have a supply of A positive standing by, just in case Mick breaks out of the fed's little concentration camp. Ivan, call The Cleaner and have her and her crew standing by. We may need their unique services. Also, get ahold of Logan Griffith. We will see if our computer hacker is worth the effort we took to bring him into the fold. He needs to hack CTU's computers so we can know what they do."

Ivan nods and asks, "Sir, how long can your friend last before he gives himself away?"

Josef hesitates, as always calculating the odds. "Mick is strong, and normally he could last without blood for days, but it all depends on how much blood he lost when he was wounded. If we can't get Mick out the legal way, then we will have to take him by force."

"Sir, won't that reveal our secret too?"

"Not if we do it the smart way. A place like CTU is always expecting a terrorist attack, so we'll give them one. When we go in, we will wear bullet proof vests and use guns. As soon as Logan fills us in on what particular group CTU is investigating, we will supply clues to make it look like they did it. Now hurry people, we have to be ready to attack before sunrise!"

X X X X X

Joan yawns, trying to stay alert for the next round of questioning. She guesses it is about three a.m., but isn't sure since there is no clock, and they took away her watch and cell phone. So far, she has easily managed the various federal agents who have taken turns grilling her. There's no good cop/bad cop at CTU. Here it is mean cop and crazy mean cop, which is why Joan is reluctantly using sexual charisma on her captors. This is an ability taught to her by her tutor in a know your enemy type lesson, and no agent of God has ever used it, until Joan. In a way, it is a milder version of the power Felicity Brewster's lust demon uses to control men, but Joan understands why her side has never resorted to it.

At first, there is a rush of power and excitement as you realize how intently all the men around you have become attracted to you, but it quickly becomes creepy. Not only can Joan feel their lust, but she also experiences their confusion, guilt and even fear. Those in committed relationships often experience their first true temptation to cheat, and the possibility scares them. Joan hates manipulating others this way, and she knows she will feel dirty for days to come. But, Joan long ago learned about the end justifying the means, and facing the alternative of torture...

Jack Bauer enters the room again, not looking as confident as the first time he was here. "Alright Joan, one more time, what were you doing at St. John's condo?"

"One more time, I was there for a date."

"Agent Chung reported you picked the lock in order to enter the place."

"As I've said a dozen times, Mick lent me a key, and I was unfamiliar with the lock. It took awhile for me to get it to work, and your agent must have mistook that for lockpicking. I'm sorry that we can't ask him to verify that possibility."

"And how did a tourist from Arcadia come to know an L. A. private detective?"

"Again, I freely admit snooping on my friend Stevie Marx and finding out that she hired Mick. I also admit that I'm too curious for my own good. I went to see Mick Sunday afternoon to find out what was going on, and of course he wouldn't discuss a client's business. But, we hit it off. He was pressed for time, but we both wanted to get together and decided on Tuesday for when we would hook up."

"And just like that, he gave you a key to his place?"

"Mick's schedule is kinda iffy, considering his line of work. So, he lent me a key, and yes, I know that's unusual, but we both knew it was a bootie call. We all know about guys and small head thinking." Joan smiles, and Jack has to deal with his own small head thinking.

"Uh, we...know Stevie Marx paid St. John a five thousand dollar retainer, and we found the letter adressed to her, signed by 'A Friend'. That note has your fingerprints on it."

"If you look carefully, you'll see the letter I handled was a photocopy, and like I said, I'm a snoop."

"Does your snooping include the activities of the Brotherhood of American Blood?"

"Who?" Joan asks with a look of innocence, but she can read Jack's intense worry about this group.

"Have you or St. John been in contact with any member of the Brotherhood, or with Erica Marx?"

"I can't speak for Mick. My knowledge of him is limited to how incredibly sexy he is. As for Mrs. Marx, isn't she dead? That's what the federal government told Stevie, who has been mourning her mom for over a year. Are you saying that anonymous note is true?"

Jack curls his hands into fists, frustrated that he is giving away more info than he is getting. The girl's story is ridiculous, and yet St. John confirmed it before he slipped into a semi-concious state. What he ought to do with this girl...

An assistant pokes his head into the room. "Jack, the Deputy Director is on the line, and he's pissed."

Joan watches as Jack sighs and reluctantly leaves the room. Good, hopefully Friedman has been doing his part. The Plan 6 she alerted him to was him pretending to be several of the news media members from Arcadia peppering Homeland Security with questions about why hometown hero Joan Girardi has been detained by CTU. This required Friedman to hack the computer systems of those various news outlets so that the inquiries seemed real, and any response would go back to Friedman and not appear on news departments' computer screens.

Jack reaches his office and answers the secure line to Washington... "Agent Bauer."

"Jack, what the hell are you up to? The news media is all over this story about you arresting Joan Girardi. I know from the file you have already seen the report on the girl, and the presidential order attached to it."

"Yes sir, but frankly I didn't understand why. I realize we owe Joan a lot for saving a city from destrution..."

"It wasn't just Arcadia that Joan saved. The prevailing winds that day would have taken the radioactive fallout right over Washington. All the top people here are aware of how much we owe Joan, and the girl has fully co-operated with us in keeping the matter a secret. Do you realize, if that Ryan Hunter nut had been successful, the clues he set up as to who nuked Arcadia would have led to a third world war? The man's warped idea of starting his own version of Armageddon?"

"Yes sir, I read the entire file, and I understand we owe Joan a lot, but does that mean she is immune forever from government action? Sir, at the very least, Joan is a material witness to the murder of one of my agents. I had to go to his house and tell his wife, with their baby in her arms, that Agent David Chung died in the service of his country. Doesn't that mean anything anymore?"

The Deputy Director sighs heavily. "Of course it does. Jack, it hasn't been that long since I was in the field, and I understand what it means to lose a young man like Chung. Can you tie Joan to Chung's death in any way other than her being there when it happened?"

"No sir. In fact, the girl was upstairs and didn't actually witness the shooting."

"Then I have no choice. In less than an hour, the President will receive his morning briefing, and I do not want to have included in that report the name of Joan Girardi. Do I make myself clear?"

"I will obey any direct order you give me, provided it is in writing."

Once again the Deputy Director hesitates. He is interferring in an on-going investigation, and it is against the rules, no matter how many grateful politicans might be on Joan's side. "What do you want?"

"I need a search warrant for the home and offices of a man named Josef Kostan. He has several indirect links to arms dealers visited by Hobart Smith, but I can't get any local judge to co-operate."

"I'll make some phone calls. In the mean time...?"

"Joan Girardi will be immediately released."

"Jack, as usual, it's always an experience talking to you."

Jack Bauer hangs up and smiles.

X X X X X

Twenty minutes later, Joan is escorted out the front door of CTU, accompanied by a staggering Mick St. John. She wishes she could give the vampire detective a hand, but even a momentary contact with her will make matters much worse for Mick. Agent Bauer was startled when Joan refused to leave without Mick, but pressed for time, he agreed. After all, the man had confirmed every detail of Joan's story, and in his weakened condition, no doubt the first place the detective would go is a hospital. Jack could not imagine that the reason Mick was able to verify Joan's weak story of a bootie call is because his vampire hearing made it possible to hear conversations through walls that were supposedly sound proof.

Out in front of CTU, a limo with the plates KOSTAN 4 pulls up, and a 'chauffeur' emerges. The driver grabs Mick, lifting him as easily as if he weighed nothing, and places him in the back of the limo. Joan feels a blast of super cold air from the car's overworked AC system, and she spots several medical bags of blood awaiting Mick. The driver hastily pulls away, but Joan is sure CTU's security cameras have caught the license plate number. Bauer will know Kostan had a man already standing by outside the government facility, and will no doubt be further motivated to look into Mick's dubious friend.

Now, how the hell will she get home...?

X X X X X

Two hours later, Joan arrives back at Kevin and Barbara's place, exhausted and fed up with this so-called vacation. Not having enough money with her to call for a cab, Joan had to wait forever for a bus and two transfers to get her back to where she left her rented car. There was a parking ticket on the windshield, but thankfully the car hadn't been towed. On the drive back to the Venice Beach area, Joan was not looking forward to her conversation with Kevin, knowing she will once again have to lie to a family member...

How can she explain that the federal government detained her all night as a material witness in a shoot out at a detective's home, or why she was even there? As for not calling, after sending the quick text to Friedman, the memory card from her phone along with a very expensive set of professional lockpicks went into the rock crystal fireplace at Mick's place (to keep the feds from finding out who she has been in contact with, and to prevent her from being charged with breaking and entering).

Joan uses her key, entering the apartment just as the sun is rising. She spots Kevin asleep in the recliner, and she is moved by the sight. Obviously big brother stayed up most of the night waiting for her, and only just fell asleep. Reluctantly, Joan gently wakes her brother...

"Kev, I'm back."

"Huh? Joan, oh God..."

Kevin jumps to his feet, staggers a bit from the sudden movement, but is kept from falling by Joan. He wraps his arms around his sister and gives her a long, hard hug. Joan can feel his concern, relief and quickly growing anger...

"Where the hell have you been? Do you realize what you put me through? I was so scared... Scared that I would have to tell Mom and Dad that the vacation I paid for led to you being hurt, or worse."

Tears glisten in Joan's eyes as she experiences along with Kevin the fear he endured, and despite the anger, the intense love he has for her.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Kev, I let you down, I know that. But I'm safe and sound, see? No harm done, at least to me, but I can't apologize enough for what I put you through. Please, I really am sorry. Forgive me...?"

Kevin pauses, weighing wether he is more mad than relieved, but as he looks Joan up and down, concern returns to his face. "Joan, there's blood on the hem of your dress."

Joan looks down, seeing for the first time the blood she must have gotten when she was kneeling beside the young agent who died. Joan sighs, knowing it is time for the lies to begin...

"Uh, I had a little nosebleed. No big deal. Really, I'm fine."

"But where were you all night? You...you weren't with Keith Scotch, were you?"

"Keith? The star of your show? Why would you think that?"

"I heard he was flirting with you."

"And I flirted back. It was fun, but it meant nothing."

"Then where have you been all of this time, and why didn't you call?"

"Well, my phone gave out on me. I'll probably have to replace it."

"And there were no other phones wherever you were? And that was...?"

Joan sighs, regretting the next lie she must tell. "I was with a guy."

"All night?"

Joan blushes, hating the look of disappointment she sees on Kevin's face. "Yeah, it turns out guys aren't the only ones who fall asleep right after sex."

"Oh. I didn't know... I mean I thought you were still..." This time, Kevin blushes. "Who?"

"No one you know. Just a guy I met and was attracted to. Look, I'm sorry I worried you, but I'm a big girl now and can take care of myself. So, can you just accept my apology and drop this? I'm feeling really embarassed and stupid right now."

Kevin nods, also feeling the same way. "Okay. I'm just glad you're safe. Uh...you were safe?"

"Kev! God, are you really asking me that?"

"Sorry. You're right, we need to drop this. Um, breakfast?"

"Actually, I'm exhausted. I'm just going up to bed. Okay?"

"Sure. Barbara and I will be leaving for work soon, so you'll have the place to yourself. And, don't forget the wrap party tonight."

"Oh right, the party. I almost forgot. Dr. Hunter and Felicity are invited to that too, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I just wanted a chance to visit with the Doc again, and get a better chance to know the woman he's marrying. That is, if I'm still welcomed at the party?"

Kevin chuckles. "I was upset about you not calling, not about you...growing up. I promise not to sew a scarlet letter on any of your clothes."

Joan smiles, and brother and sister share another hug before she trudges upstairs for some needed rest.

X X X X X

At mid-day, Jack Bauer, Saul King and a dozen other agents from CTU, burst into the central office of Kostan International. Shouts of 'Federal agents!' and 'Search warrant' draw no response from the dozen or so men at various computers in the large room. The CTU agents spread out, watching all of the activity, and carefully keeping their guns at the ready. Jack looks upon the scene with growing confusion. These are investment types, accountants and I. T. guys. They should all be quaking with fear, but they continue to routinely go about their business. Jack has never seen such calm at the appearance of armed agents charging into a room.

A smiling, slender man of about thirty approaches Jack and gives a little bow. "Welcome Agent Bauer, we were expecting you hours ago. I'm Josef Kostan."

"You knew we were coming?" Jack asks, summing up the man before him. Jack expected to find a soft, rich guy with an air of arrogance and entitlement. He isn't disappointed, but one thing he got wrong. Despite the Armani suit and the flashy Rolex, Josef Kostan is far from soft. He is confident, strong and...just a bit frightening. Surprising, considering how many dangerous lunatics Jack has stared down in his career.

"I hope you don't mind if my men keep working. We deal in the non-stop exchange of millions, and a pause could cost a lot of people a lot of money."

"I'm aware of your connections, Kostan, and the many influential people you have in your back pocket. That's why we're 'late'. It took awhile to get a warrant to search this place."

"And what exactly do you think you will find here? This is a business office. Nothing more untoward happens here than the occasional poker game with friends. If you could narrow down what you are seeking, perhaps I can help."

"We are looking for any connection to a man named Hobart Smith. Ever hear of him?"

"Of course. I keep up with the news. Hobart Smith is the fugitive leader of a paramilitary group calling themselves, the Brotherhood of American Blood..."

To Jack's surprise, all of Kostan's men chuckle at this name. What was so funny, and why did he feel like he has never been in more danger in his life than in this moment when he and his men had complete control? Saul leans over and whispers...

"Jack, I got a really bad feeling about this, and I don't know why."

Jack nods and whispers back, "Me too."

Suddenly, a small group of well-dressed men enter, the lead man waving a document...

"Gentlemen, I am Mr. Kostan's attorney, and I have a court order revoking your warrant and ordering you to cease and desist."

Jack accepts the document and glances at it. All properly legal, but...

"This order was signed only thirty minutes after our search warrant. There's no way you were able to get this so soon. You really did know we were coming before we arrived. Kostan, do you have a spy inside CTU?"

The head lawyer, a chubby man with greying hair, responds. "Mr. Kostan will not be answering any questions today. Follow the court order and leave these premises, or I will report you to your superiors. If you have any future inquiries, send them through my office first."

Jack nods to his men, and they begin withdrawing - followed closely by the small gaggle of lawyers. They watch until all of the federal agents are on the elevators and on their way down to the lobby.

Saul comments, "I know that was galling, but I can't shake the feeling those pompous attorneys just saved our lives, and I still don't understand why."

Back in Josef's office, he fumes at the indignity he has just endured. A petty federal bureaucrat has dared to invade his personal space, and all over something he has no real connection to. At least, not yet.

"Spread the word through the community. Everyone is to report anything they hear about Hobart Smith and his 'Brotherhood' being in Los Angeles. If that jackass and his thugs have brought trouble to my door, they will learn a true lesson about...blood."

To Be Continued. Please review.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

In the warehouse headquarters of the Brotherhood of American Blood, Hobart Smith waits in his private quarters for the arrival of his sister-in-law, Brenda Smith. She enters, accompanied by her constant pair of guards…

"Finally, you find time for me. I was beginning to think you'd had forgotten your family obligations, Hobart."

The 'General' smiles and waves Brenda into a nearby chair. "I'm sorry for the delay, but my arrest and detention by CTU threw my schedule off. Since my escape, I've been busy setting things right, not to mention recuperating from my interrogation."

"Yes, you do look like they worked you over rather badly. How are you Hobart? Not just now, but also during the two years since we've seen each other."

"I'm better now that I'm out of the hands of the damn government. As for the last two years, well, as you can see by the activity in this warehouse, I've been busy."

"Yes, I saw the men unloading the mortars earlier, and now I see a supply of machine guns has shown up. Are your plans going well?"

"Very. We've had a few minor snags, and took a few unexpected casualties, but overall, fortune has been favoring our efforts. We will make our first strike very soon."

"And the target would be…?" Brenda asks, waiting hopefully for the response.

"Well, for security reasons we have a need-to-know operation, but I can tell you we plan to strike at the police. We anticipate killing thousands. Maybe tens of thousands." Hobart replies with a sly grin.

('God, does he think this is funny?' Erica Marx wonders.) "How much longer before we act?"

"Soon. Are you anxious to leave?"

"Being cooped up in this warehouse isn't fun. I miss fresh air, my cabin back home and freedom. At times it almost feels like I'm a prisoner."

"The men are only looking out for your safety, Brenda. It's too risky for you to be out and about. Although, I did hear you made a brief excursion to a nearby convenience store?"

"Uh yes, I needed a few personal items, and Captain Carlisle made an exception."

"And are you aware there was a security breech during your trip?" Hobart asks as he slides a photograph over to Brenda.

"This…this is me at the store. Who took this picture?"

"I'm glad you asked. Corporal, bring in the prisoner."

There is a brief delay while they wait. Brenda/Erica gets a feeling in her guts that something very bad is about to occur. This is confirmed when a handcuffed Nancy Mirren is escorted into the room. It takes all of Erica's willpower not to gasp in recognition.

Hobart says, "Allow me to introduce your photographer, Nancy Mirren—a recently released prisoner from a women's minimum security facility. She claims to know you, 'Brenda'."

Nancy glances over to Erica, her expression one of fear and regret. "Hello Erica, I guess you thought you'd never see me again."

Erica responds, "What's this all about? I don't know this woman, and why is she calling me 'Erica'?"

Hobart replies, "That's the name Nancy got used to calling your long lost sister."

"Alice? You know where my sister is?"

"Well, yes and no. It seems a couple of years ago Alice was finally caught for that child napping she did so many years ago. She was using the name of Erica Marx at the time, and managed to plea bargain her offense down to interstate flight to avoid prosecution. 'Erica' was sent to the same prison that Nancy served at, and when she saw you at the convenience store, Nancy mistook you for her sister and snapped your photo."

Nancy quickly adds, "I didn't mean any harm. How was I know Erica had a twin sister? She never mentioned any family other than her husband and daughter."

Hobart adds, "Yes, it seems the daughter, a Stevie Marx, is residing right here in L. A. and used to visit Alice every weekend."

"Used to?"

"Tell her, Nancy."

"A little over a year ago Erica Marx was sneaked out of the prison by federal agents. We were told that Erica died of a heart attack, but I knew better. That's why, as soon as I got out, I sent an anonymous letter to the daughter, Stevie, letting her know that her mother was still alive."

Erica gulps hard, trying not to show her nervousness. "That's a bizarre story. I don't believe a word of it."

Hobart remarks, "Oh, we know some of it is true. It seems this Stevie girl hired a private detective to locate the author of that anonymous letter, and he knew Nancy was one of the possibilities."

"Knew?"

"Yes, I sent a team to question the man and unfortunately he was killed before we could gain any information. Curiously, a federal agent showed up at that exact moment and he was killed too. Now, I wonder what that agent was doing at the office of …?"

"Mick St. John." supplies the sergeant who led the team that day.

Erica answers, "Maybe the agent was following your men."

"Maybe, but unlikely. There would have been more agents involved if they had a lead on our men's actions. No, more likely the feds were keeping an eye on this St. John guy, just in case he found out something injurious to their operation."

"What operation?"

"Their plan to substitute Alice for you, Brenda. That is, if you really are my sister-in-law."

"How can you even ask that? Hobart, we've known each other for fifteen years. How can you doubt me?"

"For a start, Brenda use to always call me 'Bart' instead of by my full name."

"Uh…"

"Don't bother trying to lie any more. Alice, or Erica if you prefer, the time for games is over. We need to know how long you've been masquerading as Brenda, and what the government has done with her. You will tell us everything we need to know, or else…"

Erica sighs, knowing nothing that comes next will be good. "Or else what?"

"I have a team following this girl Stevie. One word from me and she will be snatched and sent here. Do I really have to tell you what I will make you watch us do until you decide to talk?"

"Hobart, the stress has made you lose your grip on reality. I stopped using 'Bart' for your name when I began a more interactive participation with the Brotherhood. It was awkward when I was the only one using that term. As for this poor girl that my crazy sister kidnapped, I don't know her, and have no feelings about her other than the distress I would feel if I watched any young girl being abused. And as for my sister, I have no idea what the government may have been up to since her capture - that is if she were ever captured at all. How do we know this isn't all part of a federal attempt to sew doubt in the ranks?"

Hobart hesitates as he hears his own concern echoed back to him. He stares hard at Nancy. "Well Miss Mirren, are you a government spy meant to cause a break amongst us, or have you been telling the truth?"

Nancy Mirren begins to sweat nervously. "Look, I don't even know who you people are, let alone know enough to cause you problems. I knew this Alice Sokel or Erica Marx in prison, and I saw her husband Charlie and daughter Stevie visit her every weekend for over a year. This woman, her sister, looks and sounds just like Erica. I don't know who she really is, but you can check up on me. My conviction is a matter of public record. Would I spend two years in prison as part of some government sting operation? And as for Erica, if you search the records from Arcadia Maryland, you're bound to find the news about her arrest. Something like that must have generated headlines."

Erica quickly says, "All of that can be faked or set up by the nearly limitless resources of the federal government. There's no end to how far they would go to hurt or destroy the Brotherhood. Hobart, before you do anything you will regret, and possibly damage all that we have worked for, take time to think it over. Just how carefully have you checked out this woman? Nancy, is it?"

Nancy gulps, not liking this suggestion. "Please, I'm telling the truth. Sir, remember you said you would release me on Saturday. That I had done you no harm. You gave your word!"

Hobart looks from woman to woman and frowns. "Miss Mirren, you are right, I did promise to release you on Saturday and I always try to keep my word. But, you are wrong when you say you can do us no harm. For instance, you just revealed to this government spy when our operation will be taking place..."

Erica protests, "I am not a spy!"

Hobart continues, "My sister-in-law knows me well. She knows that I hate the many harsh things I must do for the cause. That those actions give me endless nightmares and painful regrets, but...she also knows I am a practical man who always does what must be done..."

Hobart pulls a silenced pistol from under his jacket and casually shoots Nancy in the head. The woman falls, her blood seeping from the deadly wound. Erica screams her dismay. Hobart looks to Erica, his face one of grim determination.

"Do we understand each other...Erica?"

Erica Marx knows any further protest is useless. She knows her daughter's fate is in her hands. Slowly, she nods.

"Excellent. Now...breakfast?"

X X X X X

In a guest bedroom of Josef Kostan's Beverly Hills mansion, the door of a commercial freezer opens and a fully restored Mick St. John emerges. He dons a robe and makes his way to the dining room that overlooks the pool. There he finds his friend and host reviewing some financial reports.

"Good morning, Josef."

"Good afternoon, Mick. Feeling better?"

"In perfect form. Thanks for the assist last night. If your man hadn't shown up with a fresh supply of blood, I might not have made it."

"Always glad to be of service. We have a pitcher of your favorite, A positive, or if you like, I can send for one of my freshies."

"It's a little early in the day to be biting people." Mick replies with a smile as he pours himself a glass.

"How bad was it?"

"I actually only remember bits and pieces of my time at CTU. Between the head wound and the loss of blood, I wasn't functioning too well."

"It's a good thing you were released when you were, because in another hour we were going to stage a raid on the facility."

"That would have stirred a lot of unfortunate publicity."

"Yes... Mick, speaking not just as your friend, but also as a leader of the community, what exactly have you done to warrant so much government attention? Because, it is already spilling over from your life to the rest of us. My private offices were raided by an odious federal agent name Bauer, and he seemed to think I was involved with a man named Hobart Smith and his organization."

"I remember them asking me about that, but I honestly didn't have an answer for them. I've been working a case brought to me by a young woman named Stevie Marx. Stevie's adoptive mother was serving a prison sentence when she died last year, but Stevie recently received an anonymous note from a woman who served with the mother, Erica Marx, claiming Erica was still alive. I was hired by Stevie to find the letter writer so she could confront her."

"Were you successful?"

"Not yet. I narrowed the possibilities down to one woman, Nancy Mirren, but I haven't been able to get ahold of her. I don't know how my case in some way overlapped with the fed's interest in Smith and the Brotherhood."

"I've had Logan Griffith looking into the matter. It seems some of the people I do business with overseas are also associated with Smith. That sort of explains their interest in me, but there exists no direct connection between Smith and my dealings. Unfortunately, Logan wasn't able to hack all of the files at CTU."

"He admitted that?"

"Much to his embarassment. He was so embarassed, he refused his fee. He did manage to alert me to the planned raid, so my lawyers were able to cut that off just as it got started. One of the things Logan couldn't find out is why the feds suddenly released you."

Mick hesitates, not wanting to expose Joan's knowledge of vampires. "When I was arrested at my place, I had a young woman visiting me named Joan Girardi. After the bloody mess the feds found there, they naturally hauled her in too. Fortunately, Joan seems to have some political connections back east, and they were able to get her sprung. Joan wouldn't leave without me, and since I had nothing useful to tell the feds, they let me go too."

Josef smiles. "Mick, you sly one, are you involved in a romance? A little love-making with some deep hickeys?"

"Um, not sure. So far it's just a flirtation, but after what happened yesterday, I may never see Joan again..."

X X X X X

Joan yawns hugely before tumbling out of bed, her eyes blinking to adjust to the afternoon light. Wow, it is almost three o'clock. Still yawning, Joan works her way down to the kitchen and prepares a 'breakfast' of coffee and pop-tarts. She finds the newspaper and checks for any mention of yesterday's excitement at Mick's place, but apparently the feds have a news blackout imposed. Joan also looks through every section trying to find clues about the Brotherhood, but finds nothing of interest. She does see an ad for a concert tonight at The Staples Center that looks interesting, but then she remembers tonight's wrap party for 'Improper' that she is expected to attend.

The thought of the party reminds Joan of John Hunter and his demon posessed fiancee. All of this business with CTU has distracted Joan from her intention to deal with Felicity Brewster's lust demon, but John and Felicity are both suppose to be at tonight's party. She would need privacy to deal with the demon, but maybe there would be an opportunity. Joan returns to the guest room and goes through her limited wardrobe to find an appropriate dress...

Well, you could never go wrong with your basic little black dress, and maybe some pearls... Now, what to do with her hair... Joan steps in front of the mirror, holding up her outfit and immediately experiences a feeling of dizzy disconnection. Reflection God - her own mirror image and with her voice (but sounding as if it were in an echo chamber) is smiling at Joan from the other side of the mirror. Joan always finds this experience disconcerting.

"A nice choice for the party tonight Joan, but I would recommend your faux emeralds instead of the pearls."

"Thanks. Did you drop by just to give me fashion tips, or to encourage me to stick with my vacation?"

"Unfortunately Joan, you will have to set aside your vacation in order to deal with the ripples you have put in motion."

Joan shrugs. "It hasn't been much of a vacation so far, and I don't think it was ever meant to be. You knew I would be dragged into this L. A. mess, didn't you?"

"I was aware of the possibility, but it all depended on your free will choice, Joan. You came here on vacation, determined to have time off, but your first action on arriving in this city was to arrange the arrest of Hobart Smith. That one action set off a host of consequences which are still manifesting. I gave you another chance to back away from the situation, but you refused and even added an insult to that refusal."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that."

Reflection God smiles. "I know your heart Joan. I wasn't offended."

"But my tutor was. Is he ever coming back, or has he resigned?"

"Resigning is not an option he would ever consider. No matter how upset he may be with you, he would never abandon an assignment. But, I did give him some time off to...cool down."

"That's a relief. I kind of miss him. Now, what are your instructions?"

"Joan, I still haven't given you an assignment. Your free will choices are yours to deal with, and their ripples. I would caution you, events are about to cascade out of control."

"No hints?"

"I always like follow through on commitments, which is why I'm glad you are attending tonight's party. Be aware, Felicity Brewster is still avoiding you, so she won't be there."

"Then why bother going?"

"To help ease your brother's mind over your sudden ride on the wild side of life. Plus, it would be nice to give John Hunter a heads-up about what is going to happen to his relationship. Remember, his heart is caught up in the woman he thinks he knows."

Joan nods, tears forming in his eyes. "Right, let him down easy..."

"Joan, why are you crying?"

"Those dreams I've been having for the last couple of months... They're true, aren't they? Some horrible massacre is about to take place, and it's all my fault!"

"Fault? Joan, no matter what small part you may play in upcoming events, those events were already in motion when you came to this city, and they continue through the free will choices of a host of people. How can one straw be held at fault for the existence of a haystack? Do your best Joan, and trust in your training and in the gifts I have given you. I have faith you will engineer the best possible outcome."

Joan wipes away her tears and looks back to the mirror, but Reflection God is gone and only her mirrored image remains. Joan imitates the backhanded wave...

X X X X X

The end of season wrap party for Improper, held at the studio where it is filmed, is a festive and much more family oriented party than Joan expected. That's because the family members of the various cast and crew have also been invited. This party is a far happier occasion than the one the year before when the show had been struggling and was teetering on the edge of cancelation. Now a top ten hit, 'Improper' is a remarkable success story due to the head writer and associate producer, Kevin Girardi. Joan watches as everyone pays homage to her brother during the evening. She also notes the presence of Hi Greyson, Barbara's father and a director of two of the season's episodes, and she sees Barbara's growing annoyance as all present acknowledge her as either Hi's daughter or Kevin's girlfriend. 'Don't say I didn't warn you big brother'.

For Joan, this evening is a chance to relax and enjoy herself - something that has been too rare on this so-called vacation. She met up with Keith Scotch (the star of the show) again, and resumed her flirtation with him. (By the way, 'Scotch' is not his real name. Keith began his career as a comic who did a drunk act - hence the name.) They even manage to slip away to a stairwell for some discreet making out. It's not that Joan is all that attracted to Keith, but there is something about being with a celebrity... Bragging rights? Afterward, even though Joan enjoyed the kissing and just a little bit of second base action, she feels guilty. Being able to read Keith, she knows he is struggling with the transition from total unknown to big TV star, and all too often people who would never associate with him want to be his best friend...or make out with him just for bragging rights. Sigh, more guilt.

A short time later, after the running of the sesaon's gag reel, the speeches begin. The show's stars give appropriate tributes to the executive producer, Jarrod Blair, and their 'wonderful' crew, but mostly to Kevin, who begins to squirm from so much adulation. Finally, the executive producer himself takes center stage to add his own tributes to all those gathered for their hard work and talent...

"One sad note, but with a silver lining, our first assistant director, Barney Carruthers, is leaving us to strike out on his own. Barney has landed his first director's gig on an upcoming independent film, and we wish him all the best..."

Blair pauses as the audience applauds 'Barney' before continuing. "And of course our wondeful second assistant director, Tina Ferris will be stepping into Barney's shoes." (More applause.) "But that leaves an opening for second assistant director, and it gives me a rare opportunity to give a deserving young person the chance to begin what will hopefully be a long and fruitful career. Since I believe in promoting from within, the choice falls to one of our Production Assistants. Although all six of them are hard working and talented people - otherwise they wouldn't be here - there is one choice that clearly stands out. I am happy to announce that next season our new second assistant director will be...Barbara Greyson."

Applause echoes through the room as Barbara goes up to get a handshake and brief hug from Jarrod Blair. They converse privately for a few moments, and Joan looks to Kevin, seeing the sly twinkle in his eye. Even if she didn't have the ability to read people, Joan knows her brother well enough to recognize when he has been up to mischief. No doubt he has used his status as the 'savior of the show' to pressure the executive producer into giving Barbara this promotion. Joan steps closer and whispers to her brother...

"Kev, you better hope and pray that Barbara doesn't figure out what you did. One hint of doubt, and she will leave you."

Kevin looks to Joan, guilt on his face. "I-I don't know what you mean."

"Really? After all of these years, you think you can fool me? And Barbara, she's smart enough to be automatically suspicious, so you better put on your most convincing act... And here she comes... Barbara! Congratulations."

"Thanks Joan. Would you mind if I had a brief moment alone with...this guy?"

"Uh sure, see ya."

As Joan walks away, Barbara Greyson stares Kevin in the eyes. "If you did this..."

"I swear I didn't. I didn't even know Barney was leaving the show. If I had...maybe I would have spoken in your favor, but I didn't. You earned this all on your own. After all, who has worked harder for this show than you?"

"You...reallly didn't give me a hand with this promotion?"

"Scout's honor." Kevin says, holding up three fingers.

Barbara snorts derisively. "You were never a scout. Still, I guess I can give you the benefit of the doubt. Because even if you did speak to Mr. Blair on my behalf, I would understand you only did it out of love..."

Kevin is smart enough to recognize a trap. "That's good to know in case the opportunity ever arises. I almost feel guilty that I didn't have a chance to speak up for you. I guess you'll have to settle for knowing you did this all on your own."

Barbara looks into Kevin's smiling face and chooses to believe him. She will always have doubts, but she loves the big goof and will put aside those doubts in order to fully enjoy her promotion. Impulsively, she kisses the great guy that she loves, and almost fully trusts.

Across the room, Joan witnesses the kiss and sighs with relief. She spots Dr. Hunter nearby and makes her way over to him.

"Hey, Dr. H."

"Joan, good to see you again." John says as the share a brief, party style hug. "I was going to go over and congratulate Barbara, but I see Hi has beaten me to it. I think I'll wait until he moves on."

Joan can feel Dr. Hunter's lingering resentment of Barabra's biological father, as he has always considered himself Barbara's true dad. Oh well, another problem for another time...

"Since we have some time, maybe we could find a quiet spot where we can talk? There's something I really need to discuss with you."

"Certainly Joan, the stairwell over there will probably be our best bet for privacy."

"Uh, sure..." Joan replies, feeling a little awkward as she remembers that just half an hour ago she was there with Keith, letting him caress her boobs. They quickly arrive in the deserted stairwell.

"Now, how can I help you?" Dr. Hunter asks, automatically falling into therapist mode.

Joan hesitates, knowing this will be a painful conversation for her friend. "I noticed Felicity didn't make it to the party."

"Yes, she had an unfortunate tumble down a flight of stairs the other day, and is still recovering. Thank God there were no broken bones - just a few bruises."

"Actually Doc, Felicity isn't here because she is avoiding me. You see, she is aware that I'm an instrument of God."

"Joan, I swear I haven't betrayed your confidence to anyone, not even my fiancee."

"Sorry, I misspoke. The fact is...the demon inside of her knows what I am."

For several beats, John Hunter stares at Joan, trying by force of will to get her to retract that statement, but in the end he is the one who crumbles. John's entire body trembles with emotion, and tears form in his eyes...

"Are...you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm sorry Doc, but Felicity is fully possesed by a lust demon."

John Hunter puts his hands over his face, trying to hide the tears. "Oh God...oh God, I've been denying this for so long, I actually began to believe my suspicions weren't true. I should have realized the truth when after Felicity and I began to sleep together...my dreams began to fade away until they stopped completely."

"You don't receive divinely given dreams anymore?"

"No, they stopped last summer, but resumed briefly when I visited Arcadia last September only to fade again when I returned home. What a fool I was not to see the pattern!"

"Hey Doc, don't be so hard on yourself. You were a man in love..."

"Love? Was it ever love, or was I just an old fool who let his hormones dictate his life like some out of control teenager? I...I thought I loved Felicity. I was going to marry her, and we were even talking about having a baby together..." John's voice is cut off by the tears he can no longer control.

"Yeah, that would have been a bad idea. Any baby conceived through the influence of a demon would be...tainted. The odds of it turning out normal, or having a halfway decent life are really low."

John sighs, wiping away the tears. "I don't understand how this could have happened. I mean, outside of the bedroom, Felicity always seemed to be a wonderful person. I managed to convince myself that her sexual appetites and...inclinations were strange to me because I was so old fashioned. How could such a woman become prey to a foul demon?"

"It probably started when Felicity was very young - usually right around puberty. Being so beautiful, and probably having a natural, very strong libido, Felicity is just the sort of person a lust demon would try to influence. It always starts small - a whispered thought here and there to try something a little more daring than what she might normally be willing to do. Like most people, sometimes she would listen but ususally she would reject that little voice that urged her to do things she felt were wrong. But unlike most people, the times when she listened and followed through began to become a pattern. That's when she began to become demon influenced. Eventually the promises of power, pleasure, excitement and an end to guilt, were too enticing for her to resist. She surrendered herself to the demon's control, not in one giant leap, but in a series of small, steady steps toward darkness."

"Is there no helping her?"

"I can drive the demon out at any time - that's not the problem. The real problem is that the demon resides in her by way of Felicity's free will. If I drive it out without her full agreement, the demon has the right to return to its' host, and to bring more demons with it. Felicity would end up far worse than she is now."

"But surely no rational person would choose to be possesed if she had the opportunity to be free."

"You'd be surprised. A lot of people assume that this is their fate, and have come to accept their demon as the 'normal' state of affairs. Others are willing to have the demon tossed out, but their own natural inclinations remain. They backslide to a state where the ever patient demon can once again enter. After being unposessed, if the person is to be forever free, she must make a lifestyle commitment that will forever deny the demon the chance to return. That's hard."

"But we have to try. I...love her."

"Dr. Hunter, you don't really know the true Felicity Brewster. No one does, including Felicity. You've only seen the bits and pieces that remain of her true soul. The rest is a blank slate that can only be filled in through time and Felicity's own efforts once she is free. Only then will you know if this is a woman you can love. In the meantime, we still face the problem of driving out the demon. The results may not be what you are hoping for."

"I understand. When can we try?'

"Well, I've had about all the partying I want. How about now?"

"Felicity is home alone, expecting my return. Let's go..."

Quickly and quietly, Joan and Dr. Hunter slip away from the party. The ride in Dr. Hunter's Porsche to the luxury condo where Felicity Brewster lives. Joan is aware that she is now being followed by Homeland Security agents, but she doesn't care. She needs to focus on the matter at hand. Joan double checks to see if she has the silver cross given to her by God. The object is not a 'magical' talisman, but only a disturbing symbol to all demons. It is faith that has the power, and after so many years of working for God, Joan has a plentiful supply...

Less than an hour later, they are outside of Felicity's door. John rings the bell and then steps aside. Joan holds the cross before her as the door opens...

"John...? You! Damn you Joan Girardi, what do you want with me?" Felicity cries out, her face and voice distorting from beautiful to ugly and mean in a split second. John stares agahst at the transformation. Joan boldly steps forward...

"Foul demon, by the power of Almighty God..."

To Be Continued. Please review.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

6-21-07/Thursday morning.

Just before dawn, Dylan Hunter lays awake next to his girlfriend thinking about life. He and Stevie were both economically secure, so this summer vacation has been one of lazy days filled with happy times at the beach, the park and even a few visits to amusement parks. And of course, they have been making love—a lot. Dylan smiles as he thinks of how close he and Stevie have become, and he wonders just how much closer they can be… Marriage? A month ago, heck a week ago he would have thought not, because in the back of his mind, and at the center of his heart, there is always Joan.

Maybe this assignment from God to stand guard over Stevie is really a life lesson for him. Maybe God is showing him that there can be a life for him beyond his seemingly hopeless obsession with Joan. Dylan looks at his sleeping girlfriend and feels a definite love for her. Stevie is such a wonderful girl, and he is lucky to be with her…but, does he love her enough to make a true commitment? Despite his growing tender feelings for this beautiful girl, Joan is never far from his thoughts. Even now, when he has heard from Barbara that Joan is apparently hooking up with some guy she only met since coming to L. A., Dylan can't seem to move on.

Quietly, Dylan slips out of the bed, careful not to disturb Stevie. He goes about his routine of checking the locks and alarms, ever mindful of his assignment. Dylan spots a car from the neighborhood security service, and is glad for their increased presence. The other night they found footprints in the backyard, and yesterday, Dylan spotted that creepy little guy whom he chased out of the park. The creep was too far away to catch, but his reappearance is disturbing. Dylan gave the security firm a description of the guy who likes to hang out at the park staring at children, and the description was passed along to the police. More than that, Dylan doesn't know what can be done.

Dylan returns to the bedroom and slips back into bed. Stevie stirs, turns and smiles.

"Good morning."

"Good morning, beautiful. I'm sorry I woke you."

"That's okay, I'm getting use to you being an early riser."

Dylan takes her into his arms and kisses her. "You can go right back to sleep if you like, or…?"

Stevie smiles back. "First the 'or' and then more sleep."

Gently at first, and then with growing passion, they begin to kiss and caress…

X X X X X

Just before dawn, Kevin lays in bed next to the woman he loves, thinking about life. Last night their love making was a wonderful celebration of how good their lives were going. Barbara's promotion came at just the right moment to ease the growing strain in their relationship, and only the guilt Kevin feels about his secret part in that promotion bothers him. He knows he can trust Jarrod Blair, their boss and the only other person who knows the secret. Except for Joan, who figured it out almost instantly. It is so annoying the way she can see right through him, while he hasn't a clue about what is going on in his sister's pretty little head.

Even now, he is awake so very early because he is listening for Joan's return. She left the party early last night without a farewell, and hasn't returned home yet. At least this time Joan had the courtesy to call to say she wouldn't be home. Kevin frowns at this thought. Joan has changed so much since he moved from Arcadia, and while Kevin knows his little sister can't remain a kid forever, he finds her current behavior…immoral.

Hypocrite. When you were younger than Joan, you were bouncing from one girl's bed to another without a thought of right or wrong. So Joan has hooked up with some guy she won't talk about—who are you to judge? Still, when it is your sister…you can't help but have different standards. Kevin fights an insane urge to make Joan tell him the name of this good time guy so he can…what? Go beat him up? Make him produce a ring for his sister's finger? 'Kev, try to remember this is the twenty-first century, and Joan is an adult'.

Kevin hears a noise at the front door and realizes Joan is quietly letting herself into the apartment. He listens as Joan makes her way up the spiral staircase and breathes a sigh of relief. At least she is home safe and sound.

"Can you relax now?" Barbara whispers.

"I didn't know you were awake."

"With you so tense waiting for Joan's return? How can I sleep when the man I love is so worried?"

"I'm sorry. Go back to sleep. We don't have to be in to work today."

"Yeah, here I am with this new job, and I have to wait two months before I get started."

"Hey, enjoy the time off. When shooting begins again, you'll be busier than ever."

"Hmm, looking forward to it…" Barbara murmurs as she begins to drift off.

"Me too." Kevin whispers, but his mind is still on Joan. Maybe this is something he should talk over with his folks… No, no, that is a bad idea. It violates Joan's trust, and talking about Joan's sex life with anyone—let alone his parents—is weird. Let it go. She's an adult. She's an adult. She's…

Kevin can stand this no longer. He quietly exits the bed and makes his way up the stairs to Joan's room. By the time he gets there, Kevin is a little winded and his leg is bothering him. In his haste, he forgot he doesn't do well with stairs. Kevin raises his hand to knock and freezes. What will he say? 'Joan, you're a disappointing skank, and I want you to reform your sinful ways'? Kevin sighs and begins a much slower return trip down the stairs. He wishes there was someone else who could have this talk with Joan…

X X X X X

Joan slips on her nightgown and gratefully crawls into bed. She heard Kevin outside her door and was braced for an ugly scene where she would once again have to lie to someone she loves. How can she explain that she was out all night dealing with a demon possessed woman? God, what a mess that was…

Felicity Brewster's lust demon was as foul mouthed as you would expect any spawn of hell to be, at least until Joan used her authority to force the thing to shut up. With Joan's silver cross resting on Felicity's chest, the young woman lay on the floor for hours while Joan and Dr. Hunter reasoned with her. No, she didn't have to live with the demon; she could be free of it. Yes, it has been in control for a long time, and yes, you have done some truly vile things, but God will forgive you. No, it isn't hopeless. True the demon will always be trying to come back, but with diligence you can deny it access.

At one point Felicity agreed to the demon being forced out for John's sake, because she loves him so much. Then Joan had to explain it doesn't work that way. Both John and Felicity fought her on that, but Joan finally managed to convince them that they had to start over. Their relationship was so distorted by the demon's influence, they couldn't trust anything from their time together. It was a clean slate or nothing. Otherwise, they were wasting her time.

It took time and a lot of persuasion, but eventually Joan won the day. Felicity gave her heartfelt repentance, and John Hunter agreed that they must begin anew from the beginning. After that, it was a simple matter for Joan to cast the foul demon into hell where it belongs, and it would stay there forever if, as long as Felicity lived, she denied the creature access to her soul.

What a night! Exhausted, and knowing she still has a busy day ahead of her, Joan falls asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow…

X X X X X

In the warehouse headquarters of the Brotherhood, Erica Marx stirs after a brief rest. What a night. All of yesterday, and for most of the night, she was questioned about her activities as a spy for Homeland Security. Strapped to a lie detector, and with Stevie's life foremost in her mind, Erica responded honestly to every question put to her. Every report she made, every clue she uncovered was revealed in its' entirety. To her relief, Hobart was keeping his word to leave Stevie alone, but he made sure she heard every report the men watching Stevie were making. Erica knew Hobart would keep his word only as long as it played to his advantage, but at least she was hearing that her little girl was safe and sound. The news that she was spending the night with a boyfriend was a little hard to get use to, but Erica kept reminding heself that Stevie is an adult now. Still, she would like to have a long talk with this young man...

In his private office, Hobart Smith consults with a couple of his officers...

"The loading of the mortars and the machine guns is complete. We have begun the distribution of the rocket propelled grenades and the shoulder launched ground-to-air missles."

"Excellent Major, I'm pleased to see we are still on schedule. Those last two items will be an unpleasant surprise for any first responders who get in the way. Captain Carlisle, your report?"

"No changes in our primary target. All of the normal security measures are being followed, but nothing we can't handle. Our attack should be a complete success. We are maintaining an at-a-distance surveillance of the Marx girl, and are ready to grab her if the need arises."

"It seems unlikely. Erica has been the soul of cooperation. Apparently she really does see herself as this Stevie's mother, and will do anything to keep her safe. Fortunately, the information she was able to supply the feds was of minimal use to them, despite how highly they seem to have valued it. As near as I can tell, they have no idea when or where we will strike other than soon, and somewhere in the southern California area. We can proceed as planned."

"Should we remove the team watching the Marx girl, sir?"

"No, let's keep that intact. You never know when they might come in handy. Now, on to our planned escape routes..."

X X X X X

Late that afternoon, Mick St. John sits in his Mercedes convertible with the top up and under a shade tree. One of the things they didn't show on TV about detectives is the endless hours you can spend on a stakeout waiting and waiting and waiting... Nancy Mirren's house remains empty and unapproached by anyone. Mick is finishing up a conversation with his I. T. guy, Logan Griffith...

"Still no cell phone in her name?"

"Sorry Mick, but with limited funds and no credit card, the woman probably hasn't signed up with any service. She may be using a disposable phone paid for in cash, but there's no way to track that. I did have one idea. There are a limited number of companies who make an effort to give an ex-con a break. I've begun hacking their systems looking for any employment applications by Nancy Mirren. It's like looking for a needle in a haystack, but it's the best I can come up with."

"Thanks Logan, let me know if you get lucky." Mick says as he disconnects. Almost immediately he becomes aware of someone approaching the car...

"Hi! Mind if I join you?"

"Joan...?"

A smiling Joan Girardi hops in the passenger side, and Mick's first thought is, 'She's cute'. "Joan, how did you find me? Did Miss Marx tell you?"

"Stevie knows about this place?"

"She wanted an update on my progress, and after I got a promise she wouldn't come here until I had made first contact with the Mirren woman, I told her that I was down to this one last suspect."

"Cool, but I learned about this place when I was snooping around your office. I found your list of recently released prisoners and saw you had crossed off every name but Nancy Mirren. So what's the hang up? Why are you sitting out here instead of being in there talking to her?"

"I've been trying for days to contact Miss Mirren, but she's been a constant no show. I've tried everything I can think of, but Nancy Mirren remains a vitrual ghost."

"A ghost, huh?" Joan says, looking hard at the house under surveillance.

"By the way, do you know you have a couple of men in a car following you? They're about a block back in a grey sedan."

"Oh yeah, those are my tails from CTU. Didn't Agent Bauer assign you any?"

"I gave mine the slip this morning. But now, they will see that we are meeting again."

"That's a big, 'So what'? I told them you and I were...an item. It's only natural we would hook up again. You did confirm that when we were locked up, yes?"

"Yes, I heard your story and backed it up. Maybe, just to add credence to the story, we should make out a little?" Mick says with a smile.

Joan holds up a hand. She can tell Mick is half kidding, but she can also sense his attraction to her and thankfully, it isn't about her blood. Flattering, but impossible. "You remember I told you I was an instrument of God? Well, if anything like a demon or a vampire touches me, there's a hell of a price to pay. You would be screaming in agony for the next hour or two from even the simplest touch."

Mick listens to Joan's heartbeat and it doesn't change. Poor deluded girl, she truly beieves what she is saying. Mick is tempted to steal a kiss just to prove Joan is wrong, but some instinct warns him, better not... "So, what are we going to do in this car beside bake in the heat of the day?"

"We could check out the house. There might be something of interest."

"I already have. The first time I was here, I detected only Nancy Mirren's scent. The next time I sensed a lingering smell of fear, and the scents of two unknown men. But, the scent of one of those men was amongst those who attacked me in my home."

"That makes sense."

"It does?"

"Yeah, I think I've got it figured out. Nancy Mirren's letter about Erica Marx was correct. The government did sneak her out of prison last year, and I know why. Bauer kept asking me questions about the Brotherhood, and a couple of their leaders, Hobart and Brenda Smith. Hobart I happen to meet at the airport last Saturday, which is how I got caught up in all of this. I looked up the Brotherhood on line - they have an impressive website - and I saw a lot about 'The Martyr's Widow'. Brenda Smith is Hobart's sister-in-law, and her husband was killed by DEA agents about a dozen years ago. Ever since, Brenda has been a recruiter for the cause. There were no available photos of Brenda, but a background check revealed her maiden name to be, Sokel."

"Sokel? The same as Erica Marx?"

"Bingo. The only possible explanation is that the government substituted Erica Marx for her sister some time last year. That also explains what has happened to Nancy Mirren."

"It does?"

"Some how the Brotherhood learned about Nancy, took her for questioning and later killed her."

"How can you know that?"

"Because I can see Nancy Mirren's ghost wandering about her house."

X X X X X

About a block away from Stevie Marx's Victorian home, two men wait patiently in a van, keeping watch...

"You've got to be kidding me. His eyes were completely white?"

"I swear it's true. I figure this St. John character was using some sort of narcotic, maybe mixed with steroids. That's why he was so strong and why he felt no pain. We pumped two rounds into his chest and he barely flinched. He then tossed us around the room like we were rag dolls. That detective would have beaten all four of us to a bloody pulp if I hadn't got off a lucky shot to the back of his head."

"So there's a drug out there that turns your eyes white, makes you immune to pain and makes you as strong as a gorilla? Oh, I've got to get me some of that. What should I ask a drug dealer for, that white-eye drug?"

Sgt. Brooks decides to ignore Private Patterson's sarcasm. At least he is wise enough not to have mentioned the fangs. Looking back, Brooks has convinced himself that part was just his imagination...

"Unit two to unit one."

Brooks answers, "Unit one, go."

"Subject is leaving the house."

The men in both of the team's vans watch through binoculars as Stevie Marx locks her front door, and is escorted to curbside by her muscular boyfriend...

"I don't know about this, Stevie. You promised Mr. St. John we would stay away until he had contacted the Mirren woman."

"I know, but I'm tired of waiting. I have to know the truth about my mother, and this Mirren woman has the answers. I have to try, okay?"

"Sure, I'm glad to drive you there, but don't get your hopes up..."

A voice from behind snarls, "Hey punk, you remember me?"

Dylan turns, surprised someone was able to rush up on him so quickly without him hearing the approach. "Yeah, I remember. You're the creep that likes to stare at little kids in the park. What are you doing back here? I gave your description to the neighborhood security service and the police."

Leo smiles as his decision to teach this guy a lesson is confirmed by the muscle bound punk's own words. "Perfect. That's just the kind of crap I've had to put up with for twenty five years. I'm going to enjoy finally teaching one of you judgemental bastards a lesson."

Twenty five years? Dylan wonders just how crazy the little creep is. He can't be much older than 25. "Look, you don't want to cause any trouble, and I don't want to have to get physical. Move along before you get hurt."

Leo gives a crazy sort of laugh. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy this. First I'm going to bust you up just enough that you can't interfere, then I'm going to do things to that pretty little girlfriend that will give you nightmares for the rest of your life."

"Don't you talk like that about her!" Dylan warns, getting angry.

In response, Leo turns his head away for a second, there is an animalistic snarl, and when he turns back his eyes have turned white. Dylan gasps in surprise. Were those...fangs? Instinctively, Dylan pushes Leo away, and to his surprise, the guy falls to the ground screaming in agony...

"Dylan, what did you do?" Stevie asks.

"I don't know. I barely touched him."

On the ground, Leo's features have returned to normal as he has too much on his mind to maintain being 'vamped-out'. He is on fire! Desperately, Leo looks at his body, expecting to see it turning to ash as all vampires do when they are burned. No, he looks completely normal, but the pain! Knowing how vulnerable he is, Leo staggers to his feet and runs away - screaming every step he takes, begging for mercy, begging for help and thinking this agony will never cease. Soon, he is completely gone from view.

"Wow, that was so strange." Dylan remarks.

"Should we call the police?"

"And tell them what? I have no idea how I would explain what that was all about. Still want to go?"

"Sure."

Dylan opens the door to his minivan and Stevie enters. Moments later, they pull away. Meanwhile, in the van down the block...

"Tell me you saw that!" Sgt. Brooks shouts.

"I did, but I still don't believe it. His eyes were completely white, and what was wrong with the little guy's teeth?"

"Uh, beats me. But you saw I was right about the eyes."

"Yeah, but where was all of that strength and reistance to pain? The girl's boyfriend barely touch the little guy and he went down like someone threw acid on him. Weird. What should we do, Sarge?"

"Follow them."

X X X X X

Mick watches as Joan crosses the street and returns to his car. That poor girl, she really is sick in the head. Mick's vampire hearing allowed him to listen in on a one-sided conversation Joan has just had with the 'ghost' of Nancy Mirren. A smiling Joan, lovely as ever but as crazy as a bedbug, enters the car...

"I got it!"

"Got what?"

"The address where Erica Marx is being held prisoner."

"Oh, she's a prisoner now?"

"Well, duh. Once the Brotherhood learned from Nancy that the woman they thought was Brenda is actually her twin, they took her prisoner."

"And you learned this from Nancy Mirren's ghost?"

"Yeah, that's why it took so long. Nancy was really freaked out about this Hobart guy shooting her. It seems he promised to let her go, but then suddenly changed his mind and killed poor Nancy. I had to spend a lot of time reassuring her that she had a better fate awaiting her than she expected. I could see the light forming to receive her, but Nancy had her doubts. Finally I talked her into going into the light. Oh, here's the address. Know where it is?"

Mick looks at the slip of paper. "Sure, this is in an old industrial area that's pretty much deserted now. So, to review, Nancy Mirren is dead..."

"And already on her way to heaven. The only unfinished business she had was to tell where Erica is being held."

"Uh-huh. Joan..."

"Hey, I know you don't believe me - few people do - but at least check out the address. I give you my word this is good info."

Mick sighs. Once again his superior hearing tells him Joan absolutely believes what she is saying. Talking ghosts? "Joan, being on vacation, maybe you've neglected to take certain medications..."

Joan snatches the slip of paper back. "Fine. If you won't check this out, then I will. Obviously it will be more dangerous for me, but when I confirm this, and if I survive, I'll have to tell Jack Bauer that I found the terrorists he's been looking for. Too bad a certain detective with secrets, who could use a helpful friend in intelligence, isn't smart enough to see an opportunity when it is waved right under his nose!"

Mick wavers, again knowing Joan believes what she is saying. "Okay, I'll check it out. Anything is better than sitting here watching an empty house. But, I'll only do this if you promise to go home and keep out of this mess."

"Deal. The rest of this is more in line with your talents than mine. At least keep me updated?"

"Sure, I'll tell you all about the vast army of terrorists I'll find at that warehouse."

Joan knows Mick is only humoring her, but he is telling the truth when he says he will go to the warehouse. Fair enough. His opinion of her mental health isn't nearly as important as stopping the Brotherhood and saving Erica Marx. Joan steps out of the car and is about to wave a fond farewell when a familiar burgundy minivan parks behind Mick's car. Dylan and Stevie emerge, looking surprised to see Joan.

"Hey guys, what's up?" Joan calls out as Mick also exits the car.

"Joan, what are you doing here?" Dylan asks as he looks suspiciously from Joan to Mick and back again. Joan can feel a wave of jealousy rise up in her ex-boyfriend.

"Miss Marx, I thought we agreed you would stay away until I called you." Mick says to Stevie.

"I'm sorry Mr. St. John, but the waiting got to be more than I could stand. Uh, how do you happen to know Joan?"

Joan quickly says, "That's a long story, and Mick...I mean, Mr. St. John, was just leaving."

Meanwhile, down the street, the two agents from CTU who were assigned to follow Joan take note of the new arrivals. Unfortunately, they fail to notice the van with Sgt. Brooks parked a short distance away...

"Isn't that the Marx girl?" the first agent asks.

"Definitely. I'm calling this in..."

As the agent makes a call to CTU, a second van parks across the street from Joan and the others...

"Sergeant, what should we do?" asks the driver of the second van over the radio.

Sgt. Brooks looks at Mick St. John, utterly stunned. "I...I killed him. He can't possibly be alive. No one survives a bullet to the brain..."

Patterson gives Brooks a small shake. "Sarge, snap out of it. What are your orders?"

Sgt. Brooks focuses. "The Marx girl and that damn detective are all gathered at the Mirren woman's house. This is too coincidental to risk. We take them all prisoner. Everyone, move in!"

Brooks and Patterson exit the van just as the two CTU agents leave their car. With an instinct for government types, the two Brotherhood men recognize their enemy and pull their guns. Instantly, they shoot down the two agents. At the same moment, the pair from the other Brotherhood van emerge with guns drawn...

"Don't move!"

A bad choice of words to use on a vampire. Mick charges the closest pair, automatically vamping out. One of the men gets off a shot that hits Mick in the shoulder, but with only a wince of pain, Mick reaches the pair and quickly knocks them out. Halfway down the block, Sgt. Brooks witnesses the return of his nightmare, but unlike Patterson, he knows what to do. Taking careful aim, Brooks zeroes in on Mick's head and fires. There is a spray of blood, and Mick St. John again goes down with a savage head wound. Quickly, Brooks and Patterson rush up and take the rest prisoner.

X X X X X

Half an hour later, Mick awakens feeling groggy and weak. He realizes he is chained and handcuffed. Still dizzy from his rapidly healing head wound, Mick carefully looks about the small room. Mick recognizes the man who has shot him twice, but now he is holding the ultimate weapon against a vampire - a flamethrower. Standing next to him is the man Mick recognizes from his internet search on the Brotherhood, Hobart Smith...

"Welcome back, Mr. St. John. I am Hobart Smith, leader of the Brotherhood of American Blood, and you sir...are a vampire."

"Where are the people who were with me? What have you done with them?"

"Rest assured they are all safe, but they are prisoners in this facility. They will remain unharmed as long as they, and you, cooperate."

"What do you want from us?"

"From them, just some basic information. How much do they know, and what have they told the feds? For instance, one of the young ladies had the address of this warehouse with her. That will need some explaining. But from you Mr. St. John, I want something completely different. Tell me, how many of your kind are there in Los Angeles? Vampires, I mean."

"You're crazy. There's no such thing as vampires."

"An hour ago I would have agreed with you, but I have witnessed your miraculous healing from a wound that would kill any man, and according to my sergeant, this is the second time it has happened."

"I was only grazed."

"No, I saw the extent of the wound, and now it is almost completely healed. I'm guessing by morning there will be no sign you were ever injured. You are a vampire. I have heard whispers of your kind over the years, and some of my overseas contacts - men who live in the most primitive parts of the world - assured me your kind do exist. They even claimed to have had business dealings with your type. Of course I dismissed this as superstitious nonsense...until now. Answer my question, how many are here in L. A. ?"

"I'm...the last of my kind."

Hobart smiles. "No, that's not true. Sgt. Brooks and his men witnessed another of your type earlier today. You don't have to be concerned Mr. St. John. I'm not looking to persecute you and your kind as so many others have done over the years. In fact, I see an opportunity for vampires and the Brotherhood to combine forces for our mutual benefit. Tell me, wouldn't those of your kind want to have a land where they can live freely and openly? Join with us, and that can be yours..."

To Be Continued. Please review.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Agent Saul King reports to Jack Bauer in his office at CTU…

"Ryan and Scolari were gunned down from behind. They never saw what hit them."

"This is the second time I've had agents killed while following this Joan Girardi."

"And it may be the last. According to witnesses in the neighborhood, the Girardi girl was taken, along with a couple that we've identified as Stevie Marx and her boyfriend, Dylan Hunter. Mick St. John's car was there, and witness accounts about him vary widely. Most agree he attacked a couple of the men who did the kidnapping, and all agree he was shot. Some say he was killed on the spot while others say he was still alive when the members of the Brotherhood loaded him into a van and drove away. We found a lot of blood near the scene where he was taken. If St. John was alive when he was grabbed, he almost certainly isn't by now."'

Jack slams his fist onto the desk in frustration. "Damn, that detective must have known something vital after all. Why else would the Brotherhood go to so much trouble to snatch him?"

"Maybe it was one of the young people they were after?"

"A bunch of college kids?"

"One of whom is Stevie Marx. You know what that means."

Jack nods. "The only reason the Brotherhood would be after Stevie Marx is if they knew that 'Brenda Smith' is really her twin and our agent, Erica Marx. That means she's as good as dead, and with her goes our last chance to catch these lunatics before they strike at who knows what target within a hundred miles. All we can do is buff up security at all potential targets and hope for the best."

"Jack, we're stretched too thin. There's no way we can cover everything."

Jack sighs heavily. "I know, and on top of that, I have to report to the top brass that their favorite little hero, Joan Girardi, has been kidnapped by terrorists…"

X X X X X

6-22-07/Friday, just after midnight.

Blindfolded and handcuffed to a pipe, Joan does her best not to cry. For hours she has been kept like this, alone and frightened. Occasionally a guard will come by, check her restraints and move on, but that is the only contact she has had since waking up wherever she is now. Earlier, when the kidnapping took place, Joan tried to resist, but a taser made short work of that. Now, even though she has called out several times, no one seems to be around. Were they all dead? Stevie and Dylan, plus Mick...no, you had to know how to kill a vampire. Joan softly prays, fearing that God will not respond because she is not on an offical assignment, but has gotten into this horrible mess on her own. Suddenly the blindfold is ripped away, and Joan finds herself staring into the cold eyes of a couple of members of the Brotherhood.

Joan's handcuffs are briefly released so she can travel away from the pipe, but quickly she is shackled again. Roughly, the two guards wordlessly drag Joan along to a small office in the large warehouse. Joan only has a few moments to take in the main part of the building, which is filled with a wide variety of vans and pick-ups with camper shells. Joan sees that the various trucks have hidden panels at the top that can quickly be removed. She also sees that some of the trucks are equipped in the back with mortars.

In the office, Joan is forced into a chair and a moment later a man she recognizes from his internet photo enters...

"Miss...Girardi? From Arcadia Maryland...the city Erica Marx was living in when she was arrested. I've been reading up about that. It seems the arresting officer was a Will Girardi. A relative?"

"My Dad, General Smith." Joan replies, her voice raspy from dryness.

"You know me?"

"You're on the top ten most wanted list. There's even a reward for your capture."

Hobart Smith smiles. "Tell me Joan...may I call you Joan?" (Joan nods.) "How do you happen to be involved in all of this?"

"Really bad luck. I was the one who recognized you at LAX last Saturday, and reported you to SWAT. Big bucks for me, I thought. But then you escaped, so I was told no reward."

Hobart laughs. "How unfair, but typical of the government. Still, that doesn't explain your presence when you were captured with the others."

"I knew both Stevie Marx and Dylan Hunter from high school. I met Mick St. John because I knew Stevie hired him to find the woman who wrote an anonymous note saying Stevie's mother was still alive. Mick and I...kind of hit it off."

"Indeed? Are you in the habit of taking up with men you barely know?"

Joan shrugs. "Not really, but there's something different about Mick...an allure that's hard to explain."

Hobart smiles. "I think I understand. His kind are infamous for their ability to seduce young women."

"His kind?"

"Then you don't know what Mick St. John really is?"

"He's...a private detective. A really good one from what I hear."

"Yes, considering his amazing abilities, I guess he would be."

"I'm not following."

"No matter. Joan, when you were captured, you had a piece of paper with this warehouse's address on it. How did you happen to have that?"

"One of your men dropped it when I was kidnapped. I picked it up in case it was important. A fat lot of good it does me now. I should have left it on the ground. Maybe the feds would have found it, and I'd be out of here by now."

"One of my men dropped that address at the scene where we kidnapped four people and shot two federal agents? Captain Carlisle, get in here!"

A nervous looking man of middle years and with a slightly greying beard enters. "Yes sir?"

"This prisoner claims the address we found on her was dropped by one of your men."

"Sir, that's impossible. Every man on the security team has been thoroughly trained in secrecy protocols."

Joan suggests, "First time in a big city like this, a guy might be nervous about finding his way around. He might figure...what's the harm? I mean, if we actually had this warehouse's address all along, why would we be fooling around at Nancy Mirren's house? We would have just given the address to CTU."

Hobart nods. "That makes sense. Captain, begin investigating your men, and double check that no other security errors have been made."

"Yes sir!" Carlisle says with a quick salute and exits.

"Well Joan, it seems I overestimated the risk you posed to our plans. You will be returned to your friends, and can sit out this time with them."

"And how long will 'this time' be?"

"Not very long. Our plans are almost complete. Guard, secure Miss Girardi with the others."

X X X X X

At dawn, Kevin checks on Joan's bedroom and sees her bed has not been slept in. He sighs heavily. This is inexcusable. Once again Joan has disappeared to be with her...lover, and she hasn't bothered to call. Kevin makes his way back downstairs and finds a yawning Barbara fixing the first pot of coffee of the day.

"No Joan?"

"No, and I'm getting tired of this. I know Joan is grown, and free to sleep with anyone and everyone she chooses, but this is just rude. I'm tired of waiting up at all hours for her to return or call. When I agreed to finance her vacation, I didn't expect to be treated this way."

"Kev, cut her some slack. This is the first time Joan has been away from parental authority, and that can be an overwhelming experience for a teenage girl. I remember my first week at college..."

"Oh yeah? What?"

"Uh, never mind. The point is, this is not that unusual for a girl Joan's age. She's probably caught up in feelings of romance and love with a whole lot of sex thrown in, and she's gone a little wild. Trust me, this will blow over fairly soon."

Kevin nods, still worried but feeling a little better. "You're sure?"

"Pretty sure. Once Joan gets these wild oats sewn, she'll return to being the same sweet girl you've always known."

"Sweet girl? That'll be the day."

X X X X X

In his private office, Josef Kostan answers the phone, knowing from the caller I. D. who it is...

"Logan, what can I do for you?"

"Sorry to bother you Mr. Kostan, but I've been trying to reach Mick St. John, but he isn't answering any of my messages."

"Is it important?"

"I finally came up with some information on that case he was working. He seemed pretty anxious to have this info."

"Sorry I can't help, but I haven't seen or heard from Mick since yesterday. If you like, I can spread the word through the community. Someone is bound to spot him if he's anywhere in Los Angeles."

"Thank you, sir. I'm not certain how important this is. I have the cell phone number of the woman Mick was searching for. I tried it but only got voicemail. I left a message in Mick's name, and I left that message with Mick's voicemail."

"That sounds adequate. I wouldn't worry, Logan. Mick often disappears for long stretches on these cases he works, but he always turns up safe and sound. If there's one vampire who can take care of himself, it's Mick St. John..."

X X X X X

In a small brick room with a steel door - probably used back in the day for storing dangerous chemicals - Mick drinks deeply from a medical bag filled with blood. The guard, Sgt. Brooks, looks disgusted as he watches Mick slurp from the straw inserted into the bag he is holding. Brooks has to hold the bag because St. John is still heavily chained and handcuffed. Mick finishes, and Brooks hastily steps away. In the presence of the vampire, he feels only fear and loathing. Brooks hates the fact that only he is in on the secret that the General has this creature as a prisoner, and even worse, is trying to make an alliance with more of his kind.

A smiling Hobart Smith enters. "Good morning, Mr. St. John. Finished with breakfast? Good. Perhaps we can resume our negotiations?"

"You can hardly call this a negotiation when I'm a chained prisoner."

"I prefer to think of you as a guest, and as for the chains, they will be removed as soon as I believe we have a deal. Have you thought over my proposal?"

"To have vampires align with the Brotherhood and your cause? I'll admit the idea of there being a country were vampires are safe and no longer have to hide is appealing, but it seems impractical. Humans naturally shun us. Your own man just watched me drink blood, and it was all he could do not to vomit at the sight. Face it General, no matter how intriguing your proposal might be, it would never work."

"You are being too short sighted, Mr. St. John. I'll admit it will take some getting use to, but in time I'm sure I can convince my people that this deal is in both of our interests."

"Really, is that why you've told no other member of your troops? If you can't convince your most loyal soldiers, how will you persuade anyone else to coincide with vampires? We would never be welcomed or trusted, and from the vamps I know, that's not a bad thing."

"You fail to take into account the beliefs I and my people share. We believe in freedom, and individuality. Everyone should be allowed to live his life as he chooses, without some government dictating your every thought and action."

"Sounds like anarchy."

"On the contrary, it will be a well ordered society, but one based on the common decency of the average person rather than governmental fiats. All we expect from one another is a basic respect for the personal space of the other guy. Do what you will with your life as long as it doesn't interfere with mine. You see, all we would expect from the vampire community that would live amongst us is their guarantee not to hunt humans for food. Is that too much to ask in exchange for your aid in our struggle to form a separate nation for both of us?"

"For some it would. There are some vampires who have spent centuries hunting humans, and they would die rather than give that up."

"Only some vampires?"

"Many of the new generation realize the risk in following the old ways. We have always lived in the shadows, separate from humans, but the world is changing. The chances of our kind being indisputably revealed to the world is growing each day. After that, we will face genocide."

"All the more reason for your kind to join with us. Why wait for the inevitable? If vampires openly declare themselves on our side, that would drastically shorten the upcoming war we are about to begin. In the long run, it would even lessen casualties. The Brotherhood knows we face a long, dangerous battle ahead with no guarantee of victory. If our combined efforts gain us that victory, then I guarantee our gratitude. You can come out of the shadows and live free. Of course those vampires who refuse to adapt to the modern way would be denied citizenship, but all others will be welcomed. And hey, if they must hunt...well, what you do outside our national borders is none of our business."

Mick listens to the madman before him feeling appalled by what he is proposing, especially since he knows many of his fellow vampires will leap at this chance. It would only take a few to pick the Brotherhood's side to reveal the secret of their existence to the world. There would be no going back. Mick can see the appeal of this offer, but the thought of vampires joining in a war against this country sickens him. Unlike a lot of vampires, Mick has lived his entire life in one community - except for his service in the army during World War Two - and he still considers himself an American. Beyond betraying his country, this deal would also betray every principle Mick has worked so hard to establish in an effort to deny his hated vampire status...

"I need time to think this over. There are pitfalls in your plan that you haven't considered. For instance, as humans see us as their unaging neigbors, many would want to be turned into what we are. There are enormous risks in that. People could die."

"A perfect example of how we think differently from traditional governments. As long as the person being turned is doing so voluntarily, and the vampire in question does all he reasonably can to be successful, then the risk is that individual's right to take. You see, we can make a compatible society. Agree to join us, and I will start explaining to my men our arrangement right now."

"I...still want to think it over."

"Fine, you contemplate the pros and cons, but you won't be released until we have your solemn word. And Mr. St. John, you aren't the only vampire around. Fail to cooperate, and we will simply seek out the next one we can find."

Hobart leaves the room as a nervous Sgt. Brooks holds his flamethrower at the ready, keeping his distance and wondering for the first time if his leader has lost his mind...

X X X X X

On the other side of the warehouse in a wire mesh cage, Joan sits on the floor, one hand still cuffed to the wire mesh. No doubt this room was used as a storage area for paints, turpentine and other such items back when this was still a working warehouse. Blankets have been hung over the cage to deny the prisoners a view of what is happening around them. Joan is the closest to the door, Erica Marx is handcuffed off to her left, Stevie to her right and Dylan is directly in front of her. In the middle of the very small room is an open bucket - their 'facilities'. It has been used by all at some point, the others politely closing their eyes to give a sliver of privacy.

"What time is is?" Erica asks with a dry voice.

"Almost four p. m." Joan answers, every word being difficult because she is so thirsty.

"Are they ever going to feed us, or give us something to drink?" Stevie asks.

Erica looks at her daughter, feeling an agony of distress. "I don't think so, dear. We're only alive because they want hostages in case something goes wrong. Once they begin their attack, we will no longer be of any use. And then..."

Silence falls among the four prisoners as each contemplates the 'and then'.

Stevie gulps hard, but tries to remain brave. "At least I got a chance to see you again, Mom. That almost makes this worthwhile."

"Oh Stevie, I'm so sorry for what I put you through. I hated the government's idea that my death be faked, but they convinced me it was for your own safety. Besides, when this started, I thought it would only last a month. A lot less if I was caught in my deception."

Dylan asks, "How was the government able to convince you to take such a risk, Mrs. Marx?"

"Promises were made that gave me all I wanted - a quick reunion with my family, my name cleared and Stevie declared to be my legal daughter."

"But you've been gone for over a year. How could you leave Stevie alone for such a long time?"

"It was never suppose to be for so long, and for months, I didn't know Stevie was alone. I was four months into my assignment before the feds got around to telling me Charlie had died. They only did that because I insisted on contacting him to tell him I was alive. Charlie was such a nice guy, and very handsome, and I worried that a small army of desperate women would be throwing themselves at a lonely widower."

Stevie asks, "But Mom, when you knew, why did you carry on with your assignment?"

"Because by then I realized how vital is the work I was doing. These people, they look and sound so normal most of the time, but when they start talking about their cause, you can see the insanity. They think nothing of killing thousands, even millions if it gets them what they want. I only wish I could have done more, but it's a very old fashioned group. The men rule and the women serve. Not even the honored staus of my sister Brenda could get me into the inner circle where they plan their operations. I had to rely on the second hand gossip the other women got from their husbands. Fortunately, all men like to brag, no matter how many oaths of secrecy they've taken."

Dylan asks, "So we're all going to die for nothing? This attack they're planning is going to succeed, and there's nothing we can do?"

Erica nods. "I'm afraid so. I managed to get a message to CTU that I was coming to L. A., and they were suppose to follow me back to this central headquarters, but something went wrong. Hobart was arrested, and the agents who were suppose to follow me failed to do so."

Joan hears this and feels more guilt than her soul seems to be able to endure. It was all her fault!

Erica continues, "At least I got to meet you, Dylan. When I heard the report that my little girl was...uh, so grown up, I was concerned. But I can see you're a fine young man."

Stevie gives a genuine smile. "Dylan is much more than that. After Dad died, I didn't think I would be able to go on with my life. If Dylan hadn't been there, I don't know what would have happened to me. At least we are together for this. I love you, Dylan."

There is almost an imperceptible hesitation before Dylan responds, "I love you too, Stevie."

Joan sighs as her guilt level keeps going higher. She could read Dylan clearly, and knows the staus quo has not changed. He is greatly fond of Stevie, but his heart is hers. Dylan tries to avoid eye contact, but his soul is virtually shouting, 'I love you, Joan'. Joan tries to distract herself from a disturbing urge to say outloud how much she still loves her ex.

"Mrs. Marx, have you no idea where and when the Brotherhood will strike?"

Erica shakes her head. "I only know the basics. Poor Nancy Mirren let slip that the attack will come sometime tomorrow. Hobart shot her for that. As to where, Hobart would only tell me that he was planning to attack the police. With the firepower he has accumulated, no target is safe. They have a hundred 81 millimeter mortars, and each one has a hundred shells as ammo. That's ten thousand bombs that can be lobbed from a distance of...well, I'm not sure, but I think it's at least a couple of miles. Add to that the machine guns, the rocket propelled grenades and ground-to-air missles, they are immune to anything except a mass attack by the army. When they hit, the attack will be swift and they will flee long before an effective response can be organized. They've put a lot of planning into their escape, and I wouldn't be surprised if most of them got away."

The others sit silently, appalled by this news and depressed that they can do nothing to stop it.

Joan comments, "That seems like too much for a simple attack on the police. People like this would want the biggest possible bang for their buck. How many cops can they possibly expect to kill?"

"Hobart laughed when he said they might be able to get 'tens of thousands'."

"But...there aren't that many cops in Los Angeles..." Suddenly the pieces fall into place for Joan. She realizes she knows exactly where and when the attack will occur. She even knows some of the intended victims. Oh God, help me. I can't let this happen. Helplessly, Joan tugs at the handcuff that has her chained, and she knows there is no hope...

To Be Continued. Please review.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

Dr. John Hunter tosses and turns in the bedroom of his Brentwood home. A dream-one of the special kind that he has not experienced in a very long time—begins. John opens his eyes and sees standing before him the only God version he has ever known, but the one Joan identifies as 'Dog-walker God'. To John, he has always been…

"Lord! It is so good to see you again." John proclaims as he drops to his knees.

"It is good to see you too, John. I have missed our times together."

John blushes deeply. "Lord, I am so sorry…"

"John, I have already received your repentance, and you have been forgiven. It is forgotten, and we need not speak of your…error."

"Thank you, Lord. And…Felicity? Will she be okay?"

"Felicity Brewster has a long, difficult path before her, but she has made a good start. I would encourage you not to shun her, John. I know your feelings for her are confused right now, but in time they will resolve themselves."

"We are doing our best to work out this new relationship, but it is hard. After a year of being close, suddenly we are strangers to each other—even though we fondly remember our past days."

"Build on the new John, all that came before is tainted and unreliable."

"I will Lord. Have you come to give me a new assignment?"

"Eager to get back into harness?"

"I have missed being of service, and I have missed helping others at your direction."

"No new assignment, at least not yet, but I have come to give you a warning, John. Your son is in danger."

"Dylan? What sort of danger, Lord?"

"One that you are not able to interfere with."

"There's nothing I can do? Then why tell me, Lord?"

"There is one thing you can do. The one thing anyone can always do." With that, 'Lord' walks away, giving a backhanded wave as He goes…

John Hunter instantly awakens in his bed. He knows what he must do. John falls to his knees and begins to pray.

X X X X X

6-23-07/Saturday morning.

In Arcadia Maryland, Helen Girardi waits impatiently as the phone rings again and again. Come on Kevin, pick up!

"Hello…?" answers a groggy Kevin.

"Kevin, thank God you're home."

Kevin yawns. "Mom? Where else would I be? The sun is just now rising."

"Oh, of course, I forgot about the time difference. I'm sorry Kev to wake you so early, but I need to speak to Joan, and she isn't answering her cell."

"Uh, she said it got broke the other day. I don't think she's found a replacement yet. Hold on, it will take me awhile to get up the stairs…"

Kevin slips out of bed and puts on his robe. Barbara gives him a brief look of annoyance before rolling over and going back to sleep. Kevin slowly mounts the spiral staircase, holding tightly to the rail for support. He knocks a couple of times before entering. Damn, still no Joan, and her bed hasn't been slept in. This is going to be an awkward conversation…

"Mom, she's not here."

"Maybe she went jogging? Joan has been doing a lot of that lately."

"I know, but…she didn't spend the night here. In fact, this is the second night in a row that Joan has been gone."

"Gone? Gone where? Kevin, where has my daughter been the last two days?"

Kevin sighs. "I'm not sure. Mom, I don't know the details of what Joan's life has been like the last few months, but after she got here, she started acting…odd. And I don't mean her usual sort of odd. Joan admitted she met a guy—she wouldn't say who—and she's been spending nights with him without calling."

"Oh God, my Joan has been… Just like that? The last time we spoke on…that subject, she was still…"

"That's what I thought too, but after Joan arrived in L. A., she seemed to go a little wild."

"A little? She's away with some man none of us know the name of for at least two days? That's more than a little. She's gone from zero to sixty in nothing flat. I don't understand how Joan could change so quickly, and I always thought when the time came…she would confide in me."

"I'm sorry Mom. I should have been watching her more closely. Been there to advise her…"

"Kevin, don't blame yourself. You're her brother, not her parent, and although I'm alarmed by the intensity of Joan's behavior, we both know this was long over due. I just hope she's safe. Especially considering why I called."

"Uh, why was that?"

"You'll think it silly, but I had a nightmare that Joan was in danger. Not guy trouble type danger, but like an action movie type of thing. I actually dreamed she was a prisoner in some warehouse, held by some sort of evil villain."

Kevin chuckles. "I don't think we have to worry about something like that. Don't worry Mom, Joan will be back eventually—feeling embarrassed and sorry that she worried us. And hey, look on the bright side, maybe she's found the love of her life, and that's why she's gone so nuts over this fella."

"I hope you're right, because whoever he is, I want a long talk with this 'lover-boy'. Call me when Joan gets back. I need to know she's safe…"

X X X X X

Later that day, the four prisoners in the small, wire mesh cage sit quietly, listening to the activity they can not see because of the blankets covering the cage. The top of the cage is uncovered, and through the mesh they can see the shadows of the movement outside. All day voices have been raised with excitement as the big moment is approaching. Cries of 'Victory!' echo through the cavernous warehouse as heavily laden trucks begin pulling out in a steady stream of traffic. Time is growing short, and the four prisoners have resigned themselves to their fate...

The door to the cage opens, and a smiling Hobart Smith enters, surrounded by his personal guards. "How is everyone? Enjoying your stay?"

Joan, Dylan and Stevie look at the 'General' with disdain, but Erica speaks up. "Hobart, please, you can't be so cruel as to kill these young people who have done you no harm. I realize my life if forfeit because I have spied on you for the government, but they are innocent. Is this how you will start your new country, by killing the innocent?"

"My dear Erica, do you not realize we are about to kill twenty or maybe thirty thousand innocent people? It is the price of war, one that we did not begin. The federal government has been at war with the Brotherhood from practically the first day we were formed. Now, we are striking back."

"You don't know those people, but you can see these faces. You have spoken to each of them. Please, Stevie is my daughter, and in a sense, Brenda's niece. Can't you at least spare her?"

Hobart looks at Stevie Marx, and a rare look of compassion crosses his face. "Young lady, I truly am sorry. Your life seems to have been cursed from the day you were born, and now it must end at such an early age. I hope you understand, but it would be foolish of me to leave behind such a loose end. But I promise my men will make it a quick and painless demise."

Joan speaks up, her voice weak from hunger and thirst. "General...if we must die, can we be offered a tiny comfort? We have been without food and drink for nearly two days."

Hobart shrugs, feeling curiously obligated to accomodate this young woman. "That seems reasonable. Sgt. Brooks, see that the prisoners have a last meal, and when we send you word that the attack is imminent, finish them off mercifully."

"Yes sir. And the other prisoner?"

"I recognize when someone has been stringing me along. Mr. St. John will never cooperate, so we will have to find one of his kind that will. After you kill these four, burn him."

"Yes sir!" Brooks replies with a relieved smile on his face.

General Smith exits, his 'game face' on, ready and eager for the slaughter ahead...

X X X X X

Barbara Greyson answers the door to her apartment, and is surprised to see John Hunter standing there.

"Step-dad? An unexpected pleasure. Please come in." Barbara says as she and John share a brief hug.

"Thank you dear. Is Kevin here?"

"On a Saturday afternoon? He's probably approaching the last hole at the golf course right about now."

"Of course, I forgot. Barbara, have you heard from Dylan lately?"

"Uh, how lately?"

"Today or yesterday."

"No, we spoke a couple of days ago. Is something wrong?"

"I think there may be a problem. Have you any idea where I can reach him?"

"Have you tried Stevie's house? Uh, you do know he's been staying there?"

"Yes, I just came from there. His minivan is not there, and I can't raise Dylan or Stevie on their phones."

"They probably went to the beach, and have their phones turned off. John, what's wrong?"

"I'm...not sure. Is Joan here? Maybe she can help."

"We haven't seen Joan for a couple of days now."

"She's missing?"

"Not exactly. Joan is apparently caught up in some passionate love affair, and has been spending nights with some lover she won't name... John, you don't think she's with Dylan? Surely he wouldn't do that to Stevie?"

"I don't know what to think. I only know I have this terrible feeling of dread when it comes to your brother, and hearing that Joan has disappeared isn't helping to calm my mind."

"That's an odd coincidence. Kev's mom called here early this morning, she had a dream that Joan was in danger. You don't think...?"

"I don't know, but if Joan has been missing for two days, we can at least report her disappearance to the police."

"You're that worried?"

"Yes. Wherever Joan and Dylan are, I believe they are in terrible danger..."

X X X X X

Back in the warehouse, the four people in the cage have fallen asleep. Fear, hunger and thirst prevented any rest for the last two days, but after a meal of canned beef stew and lukewarm tap water, their bodies were sufficently restored to demand a time of rest and recuperation. Despite knowing their end is approaching, sleep demanded its' due...

Tap-tap-tap.

Joan stirs. Was that...? Tap-tap-tap. Joan looks up and sees her tutor-angel towering over the small cage. Is that just a touch of a smile on his face? This is not funny. The 25 foot tall angel lifts one of his massive legs and then slams it to the floor. Instantly, the entire building shakes and the cage rattles loudly.

"Earthquake!" a frightened voice from the outside calls out. The shaking stops, but the rest of the prisoners awaken.

"Was that a quake?" Stevie asks.

Dylan replies, "Just a little one. Growing up here, I've experienced dozens of them. It's nothing to worry about."

Joan wonders what her tutor was thinking, but she can't ask since he has already walked away, passing right through the wall of the building. Suddenly, Joan realizes the handcuff that was holding her to the wire mesh has sprung open. She's free. Joan stands and stretches.

Erica Marx whispers, "Joan...how?"

Joan whispers back, "The earthquake must have done it. These are probably really cheap handcuffs. Is anyone else loose?"

Erica and Stevie check, but both shake their heads 'no'. To Dylan's surprise, he too is free. He stands and also enjoys the luxury of being able to stretch. The prisoners all grin for a moment, but then they remember that they are still locked in. Joan goes to the door and quietly tries it, but their imprisoned status is confirmed.

Dylan quietly remarks, "The two of us are loose, for all the good that will do us. We're still trapped in here until they decide to come and kill us."

"Then that's when we will have to jump them." Joan casually comments.

"Jump them? Joan, we saw from when they fed us, there are still five armed men left in this warehouse. What chance do we have?"

"A slim one, but that's better than what we had before. They probably won't all come in here. Mick St. John is being held in another part of the warehouse, and at least one will be guarding him, and they will have at least one guy watching the street for any passers-by. At most, we will have two or three guards to deal with."

Erica whispers, "But Joan, how can the two of you manage against armed men? It's hopeless."

"We must try. It's not just our lives at stake. Within a couple of hours, Smith and his army will attack and kill thousands. If we can't get out of here and spread the warning, this city will bleed..."

X X X X X

At a small private airport just west of L. A., Hobart Smith and a couple of his top officers monitor radio traffic as their men are getting into position for the planned attack. Hobart is anxious and feeling a little guilty - not about the attack, but about the fact he is not there with his men. He wants to be, but all of the top leadership of the Brotherhood insisted he was too valuable to the cause to risk being at the battle site.

"General, the last section of Group Four has reported in. All units are now in position, and we have had no contact with security forces."

"Excellent, Colonel. How heavy is the security at the target?"

"Captain Carlisle reports it is within expected limits. As we supposed, the feds were spread too thin to add much to every possible target. Our attack should go off without a hitch."

"And the crowds?"

"Traffic is flowing well, and the target should be at or near capacity. We estimate 55,000 people will be under the gun in...100 minutes from now."

"And so it begins. Alright, give the word we are green to go in 100 minutes."

"Yes sir. And sir, what about the prisoners back at the warehouse?"

"They are no longer of any use. Tell Sgt. Brooks he and his men may start their escape after killing Erica Marx and the others..."

X X X X X

Jack Bauer stares at a map of the southern California region and sighs. Too many potential targets. That is the problem with this region, there are too many places where people gathered in large numbers, and you can't cancel everything. In fact, you can't cancel anything without hard proof, and there is none. The Brotherhood could be attacking at any time within the next few days, and the area is riddled with places to guard: Government offices, military targets, malls, concerts, sporting events, power grids, crowded beaches and on and on... Jack runs his fingers through his thinning hair and mutters...

"Where are you Smith? Make a mistake, you bastard."

Agent Saul King looks over at his boss and friend of many years. "Jack, go home. You haven't slept in two days, and you're exhausted. I'll take the next watch and alert you if anything happens."

"Thanks Saul, but I wouldn't sleep. I keep thinking we've missed something, but I don't know what. I hate this. The endless waiting around while others follow up on leads that go nowhere. God, I miss the field. I was never cut out to be an administrator."

"No one could have done more."

"We had Smith right here, in our very hands. In the old days, I would have just started cutting off body parts until he talked. Now, we have oversight committees and endless red tape. Maybe Smith was right about one thing. We have a system that is too shackled by the rules. If he succeeds, if Smith gets that new country of his, you can bet he won't be shackled. In his crackpot version of paradise, he will be free to act..."

"Thinking of applying for citizenship?" Saul asks with a grin.

Jack grins back. "He did offer. I would only have to be willing to live in a land where the founder is a raving lunatic."

Jack looks at the map again. "Make a mistake, you bastard."

X X X X X

Joan senses the approach of their executioners. Their tread is heavy, their hearts troubled. These are men of action, willing to risk their lives in any battle, but killing chained prisoners is the hardest thing they have ever had to do...

"Get ready." Joan whispers. This is going to be a close thing. They may not survive. God, help us all.

The cage door opens, and three grim faced men stand there with silenced pistol in their hands. One enters and goes directly to Dylan - get the biggest risk out of the way first. The other two men hesitate, and reluctantly enter. Dylan watches his would be killer approach, hoping that he isn't suspicous of why his supposedly handcuffed hand is behind him. God help us all.

"Sorry kid."

The main raises his pistol and Dylan leaps at him. They struggle for a moment, but Dylan has the advantage of surprise and the gun is knocked away. The Brotherhood soldier is middle aged and in better than average condition, but Dylan Hunter is an athlete who has been studying martial arts ever since he was attacked and beaten by two hoods a couple of years ago. Their battle is brief and violent, but in the end, Dylan is the one left standing. He looks to the door, fully expecting to be gunned down, but the other two men are on the floor unconcious...

"Joan...how?"

"You're not the only one who has been studying fighting techniques. Check for hancuff keys."

They do a quick search, but no keys are found. Joan recovers the three fallen pistols and hands one to Erica and one to Dylan.

"Does everyone know how these work?"

Erica replies, "I know how to shoot, but what good does that do us in this cage?"

Joan replies, "Dylan and I will have to go out and deal with the remaining two guards, and hopefully find the key. If you hear shooting, don't wait. Shoot the hancuffs off of you and Stevie and make a break for it. Otherwise, guard these three and wait for us to get back. Dylan, can you handle a gun?"

"I've never held one before."

"Dad taught me the basics. I'm no expert like Luke, but I'm not bad either. Don't try to get fancy. Just aim for the middle of the body and squeeze the trigger."

"Joan, I'm not sure I can shoot somebody."

"Me either, but we have to try. Let's go."

Dylan and Joan quietly exit the cage and look about. Without all of the equipment and trucks, the place is mostly wide open. Shadows from the poor lighting make movement easier, but there are few places to hide.

Joan whispers, "I'm betting there's one guard by the front entrance. See if you can take him out. I'm going to try that brick structure on the far wall. That's where they're probably keeping Mick."

"Why there?"

Joan hesitates. She can't say because it is the most secure spot to hold a vampire. "Just a hunch. Good luck."

"Joan..."

Dylan takes Joan into his arms and kisses her. Joan kisses back and then reluctantly departs from his arms. They mutually smile before proceeding with their tasks.

Joan rushes to the small brick shack with the steel door. There is no cover, and she must do this quickly. The door is ajar, and Joan can smell some sort of burning fuel. She easily senses Mick's presence and kicks open the door, gun at the ready. Sgt. Brooks is there, about to end Mick's life with a flamethrower. Joan points her gun at the sergeant, and with more confidence than she feels, she calls out...

"Drop it, or I'll drop you."

Brooks snarls, "No. I have to kill this thing. You don't know what he is."

"I know, and I'll take him over you any day. Drop your weapon, or I'll kill you."

Mick calls out, "Joan, don't take this chance over me. Shoot him now."

Joan considers the idea. She desperately doesn't want to kill someone, not even a murdering thug from the Brotherhood, and if she shoots, Brooks might have just enough strength left to burn Mick. Vampires burn very quickly.

"Last chance." Joan calls out. If she had more time, she could try using sexual charisma on the guy. In time she could have him eating out of her hand like a grateful puppy, but that has been the problem the whole time of her captivity. She hasn't had the time needed to work her wiles on any of these men.

Brooks looks at the gun pointed at him and begins to sweat. It is one thing to face death in battle, but to stare down the barrel of a gun held by a young woman who looks so very determined... Reluctantly, Brooks drops the flamethrower to the floor.

"Now release him."

Brooks backs away, more firghtened by that idea than by the gun. "N-No, he'll kill me. He'll kill us all."

Mick recognizes the problem. He knows Joan absolutely believes she can not touch him, and he is begining to have doubts about that too. Only Brooks can do this...

"Sergeant, I won't hurt you. Remember, you fed me. I'm full, and my kind are always grateful to those who feed them. Trust me, you're safe."

Vampires do not have hypnotic powers, but they are a bit psychic and are very persuasive. Mick's soothing tones have a calming effect on the man. Slowly, cautiously, Brooks approaches, removes a ring of keys from his pocket and releases Mick. He quickly steps back.

"We have to get the guards secured and get out of here. We're running out of time." Joan says as she waves Brooks out of the room. They step out just in time to see Dylan approaching, the last guard before him with his hands up.

"Asleep on the job. That was easy. I see you were successful too."

"We have to hurry. Mick, secure us some transportation while we take care of these two."

Joan and Dylan march their prisoners back to the cage, where they find Erica guarding the three other men who are just begining to awaken. Quickly, Erica and Stevie are released and their guards locked inside the cage. The four ex-prisoners return to the open warehouse to find a waiting Mick...

"There were two vans left, and I have them running. What should we do?"

Stevie asks, "Can't we just call the police?"

Erica replies, "We will enroute, but I have to get to CTU so they can debrief me."

Joan suggests, "Here's an idea. Mrs. Marx, you, Stevie and Dylan go directly to CTU, and Mick and I will stay here. We'll call the police and wait for them to show up."

"Yes, that's sounds good." Erica says as she and Stevie get in the van. Dylan follows, but he hesitates at the door. The look he gives Joan proclaims: 'We have unfinished business'. Joan nods. Quickly, the van pulls away and is soon lost from sight.

Mick comments, "You lied just now. We're not calling the police about this place?"

"We will on the way, but I have another destination in mind."

"Where to?"

"Take me to meet Josef Kostan."

X X X X X

The drive to Beverly Hills is fast and surprisingly short. The contrast between the old industrial area and the wealth of Beverly Hills is all the more startling considering how few miles separate them. Mick and Joan arrive, and their stolen van is politely parked by one of several valets.

"There's a party?"

"Josef has been throwing a party every Saturday night for nearly a century. Of course he has been using different identities during that time. The crowd is small because things are just starting. In an hour this place will be packed with the rich and the famous."

"They don't know they are partying with vampires?"

"That wouldn't be much of a draw for a crowd. They just think Josef is this charming guy who makes them a lot of money on their investments. Only the freshies that attend are aware of the truth."

They enter the mansion, and Joan tries not to be distracted by all of the famous and beautiful people. Their elegant party clothes remind Joan that after two days of captivity, she looks and smells awful. Mick leads the way to the main stairs, but a large, muscle bound vampire blocks their way.

"Good evening Mr. St. John. Mr. Kostan has not yet joined his guests."

"I have to see Josef right away, Ivan."

"Yes sir, but I do not recognize this...young lady. You know the rules, sir. No unknown guests are allowed upstairs unless they are vouched for."

Mick nods. "I vouch for her. Miss Girardi is...my freshie."

Quickly, Ivan steps aside. Joan realizes that by vouching for her, Mick has not only given her access to Kostan's inner sanctum, but he has vouched for her with his life. Any freshie who betrays the trust of the community is of course killed, but so is the vampire who was foolish enough to vouch for her. They rush upstairs and enter a private study without knocking. There are several vampires in the room, some are casually talking to their 'dates' and others are doing what their host is engaged in... Joan recognizes Kostan from the file Friedman sent her. He is drinking from the wrist of a beautiful woman, and for her the experience seems to be...orgasmic.

Kostan looks up and smiles. His 'vamped-out' state returns to normal as he licks the blood from his lips. The woman comes to rest on a nearby couch, looking tired but pleased. Joan tries to keep down the beef stew from earlier.

"Mick, dear boy, glad to see you've made it to the party. We have some excellent Cuban cigars, and a jazz combo will be performing. Um, perhaps before you join the party, you and your friend would like to freshen up?"

"Josef, this is Joan Girardi..."

"Oh, the woman from earlier this week? Good evening, Joan. If you like, I'm sure one of the ladies can find you some more appropriate party clothes. We also have champagne and an excellent buffet for our human guests. What is your pleasure?"

Joan responds, "Mr. Kostan, I'm not here for the party. Mick and I have just escaped from the Brotherhood of American Blood. They are..."

"I am fully aware of the Brotherhood. They are apparently blundering about Los Angeles somewhere, and the government actually believes I have a connection to those fools."

"Sir, the Brotherhood is about to launch a terrorist attack on a target that will kill thousands of people."

Josef shrugs. "I assumed they would eventually get involved in something like that, but why are you coming to me with this? The affairs of humans are not of any interest to our community. If you have information about this attack, call the police."

"If I tell the police what is about to happen, they will rush dozens of police cars to the area, and they will be slaughtered. The attack will proceed and the Brotherhood will make good their escape before the army can mobilize a response."

"You're probably right if the attack is as imminent as you believe. But again, why should I be concerned?"

"Because when this attack succeeds, and thirty thousand or more people are dead, this nation will demand blood. Your blood, Mr. Kostan. And Mick's, and probably mine too. Anyone even remotely connected to this horrible event will find themselves locked away for months, maybe even years while the investigation goes on and on. No amount of money, no group of lawyers will be able to spare you that fate. And while human torture techniques might not be very intimidating to a vampire..."

"Imprisonment is."

Mick adds, "She's right, Josef. Remember what happened to thousands of Muslims in this country after nine-eleven? Imagine what the government will do when they discover the truth about vampires, and they suspect we were involved with the Brotherhood."

"Genocide." a shocked Josef whispers.

Joan adds, "We have about an hour, maybe less before the attack begins. No human force can be mustered that can stop this attack in time."

"But vampires can. Where?"

"Dodger stadium. There's a reunion tour by the group called The Police. Right now over fifty thousand people are filling that stadium. Once the concert starts..."

"Smith and his lunatic band of merry men will attack. We can't make it there in time, but there are vampires all over L. A. Everyone! Call any vampire you know who lives on the west side of the city. They are invited to an old fashioned feeding frenzy."

Joan adds, "Tell them to look for vans and campers with roof panels. With their senses, they should be able to smell the guns and explosives. Oh, and tell them to bring knives for...throat cutting. Make it look like a commando style attack."

Josef nods even though he has already thought of that. All over the room, various vampires are on their cell phones calling on those they consider to be the lucky ones. The vampires who are close enough to wallow joyously in so much blood...

Joan goes to a deserted couch and collapses there. Oh God, what has she done? She has sicced blood thirsty monsters onto human beings. They may be flawed, and even evil people, but their deaths will be...a horror. But what can she do? All those innocent people... Joan remembers her first conversation in L. A. with Elaine Lishack. She, Dana Tuckman and little Emily are in that crowd. What choice does she have? Joan weeps as she realizes her nightmares about a bloody massacre involving vampires is becoming true through her decision...

To Be Continued. Please review.


	11. Chapter 11

EPILOGUE

6-30-07/Saturday morning.

Kevin and Joan travel across Union Station to the waiting area. Kevin feels a little guilty that Joan has to carry her two heavy bags, but between his aching leg and leaning on his cane, any attempt to help would just cause him to tip over. They come to rest on a bench and check the time. Joan's train will be leaving soon.

"Are you sure you want to take the train? It's an eleven hour trip to San Francisco."

"I'm looking forward to the scenery of the costal express." Joan replies, but her demeanor reveals no excitement.

Kevin looks at his sister and again experiences the worry that has been with him ever since Joan returned to the apartment late last Saturday night in a chauffeur driven limousine. Joan looked like hell that night, and she hasn't improved much since then. For nearly a week Kevin has tried to get Joan to open up about what happened during the two days she was gone, but she won't. Clearly, his sister is depressed, and Kevin can only assume that Joan's first love affair has ended very badly. Frustrated by his inability to get through to her, Kevin had Barbara try, also his mother by phone and even a visit by Joan's old shrink, Dr. Hunter. No one could get through to her, and all were worried as some unknown burden seems to be weighing heavily on Joan's soul.

"Joan, I'm sorry your visit here went so badly. I wish things had turned out better for you."

"Kev, it's not your fault. You and Barbara were great, and I'm sorry I was such a lousy house guest."

"I just wish you would tell me the name of the rotten creep who treated you so badly. There's nothing I'd like better than to go and kick his ass."

Joan smiles weakly, appreciating her brother's loyalty and wishing she didn't have to stick to this absurd failed romance story. It was a good thing Kevin didn't see Mick St. John when he visited her the next day after the vampire attack. They met in the same alley where the guy with the baseball bat attacked her. Joan was on her way to the beach when she heard her name…

"Good morning, Joan."

"Oh, hello Mick. I was just on my way to the beach."

"I figured, but I thought I would stop you here. Beaches aren't a vampire friendly environment. I wanted to see how you were doing. Last night, you seemed…"

"About to go out of my mind? Yeah, soul-wrenching guilt can do that to you."

"Guilt? Joan, because of you, thousands of lives were saved. The Brotherhood didn't manage to get off a single shot."

"And all I had to do was release upon the streets of L. A. a…what was it your friend called it?"

"A feeding frenzy. It's a really old vampire term. There probably hasn't been one for nearly a thousand years."

"What is this: feeding frenzy?"

"Many years ago, when remote villages often went weeks or even months without contact with the outside world, small bands of vampires would descend upon them and drain the blood from every man, woman and child. They would quickly move on, and by the time the crime was discovered, the world only had an unexplained mystery on their hands."

Joan shuddered. "No wonder there are so many weird legends about remote places. Well, at least I managed to revive an old tradition, and it 'only' cost three hundred twenty lives."

"How do you know the exact number?"

A look of incredible sadness crossed Joan's face. As each member of the Brotherhood met his fate at the hands of vampires, she sensed their descent into hell. Now, all 320 of those voices cried out to her soul of their agony, and their accusation of her for their fate. A tear rolled down Joan's cheek. Mick automatically reached out to wipe it away, but Joan jumped back just in time…

"Mick, no!"

"Oh right, that instrument of God thing."

"I know you don't fully believe me, but it's true. We can never touch."

Mick sighed. "That's a shame, because you are the most extraordinary young woman I've ever met. Since meeting you, for the first time since I've been a vampire, I have been contemplating what it would be like to be in a relationship with a human woman."

"You've never…?"

"I've restricted myself to vampire women. At least with them, a little biting is not only permitted, it's expected."

(Eww.) "Well, even if we could touch, I draw the line at married men. Remember Coraline?"

"Oh, I didn't get to tell you how that ended. After my transformation to vampire was complete, Coraline and I went our separate ways. I couldn't get over what she did to me, but she was determined to reconcile. About twenty years ago, Coraline reappeared in my life with a scheme to get me back that was crazy even by her standards."

"Do tell."

"She knew one of things I most resented about being a vampire is that we can't have children. Coraline kidnapped a little girl named Beth with the intent of turning her into a vampire. In her warped mind, she saw that as a way for us to be a happy little vampire family forever."

"Oh God. What happened?"

"I tracked Coraline down and rescued Beth before she could be turned."

"And Coraline?"

"I…trapped her in a burning building. She died." (Spoiler footnote.)

Joan felt the pain and guilt that this statement caused Mick. At one time, when he was still human, he was just a guy who was very much in love. It wasn't his fault his bride turned out to be a monster…

Joan's mind snaps back to the present as she hears Kevin calling her name…

"Joan? You really drifted off there. I know you had a rough time last week, but don't you think it would help if you talked with someone?"

"Some things are too private to discuss. You just have to deal with it all on your own. Kevin, thank you. You've been great with me these last two weeks, and I'll always appreciate your generosity, especially since you are financing the rest of my summer vacation. Would you mind terribly if I asked to be alone while I wait for them to call my train? I still have things I want to think over."

"Sure, not a problem." (They exchange a long hug.) "But remember, if you need anything, call. You don't have to face the harsh times alone. I assume you won't be discussing the details of your stay here with Adam when you see him?"

"Yeah…that might be awkward. I'll call you when I get to Frisco."

They hug one last time, and Kevin departs. Joan watches him go even as she notices Agent Jack Bauer approaching now that she is alone…

"Hello Agent Bauer, bring your thumbscrews?"

"No Miss Girardi, I just stopped by to wish you a good trip, and to say thank you."

"You're thanking me? For what?"

"Well, to begin with, for the five Brotherhood soldiers you captured in that warehouse."

"They're spilling their guts?"

"No, only one was willing to make a deal. The man calling himself Sgt. Brooks was eager to talk, in exchange for two conditions. One was life without parole, and the other was imprisonment as far away from Los Angeles as possible. The information he is providing is proving invaluable in rounding up the remaining members of the Brotherhood scattered throughout the northwest. We won't get them all, but the back of that organization has been broken forever. Sadly, we can never use Brooks' testimony in open court."

"Why not?"

"The man is insane. He keeps babbling about his fear of…you'll laugh…vampires."

Joan shrugs. "You have to figure anyone who joins a group like the Brotherhood is bound to be a little on the crazy side. What about Hobart Smith? I've been watching the news, and there were no reports about him or his men. What was their big plan, and what went wrong? As far as I can tell, there was no terrorist attack."

Jack smiles. "Like you don't know. It took me awhile, but I finally figured out what was so strange about this whole case. It was your involvement. I didn't understand how you kept getting entangled with every aspect from practically the first moment you arrived in town."

"But now you do?"

"I think so. What I suspect also explains why there is a presidential order in your file instructing all agencies to have a hands off approach to you, and to lend all assistance you may ask for. That's just strange, even for a young woman who managed to bring down Ryan Hunter. It goes way beyond the gratitude of the nation's leaders. But then I figured out just what you are."

Joan smiles. This should be amusing. "And what am I?"

"Back in the bad old days of the cold war, the U. S. government used psychics to get information on the Soviets that couldn't be obtained any other way. The results were a mixed bag, but it proved useful. You, Joan Girardi, are a psychic. That's why you were able to handle a guy like Ryan Hunter when you were still just a high school kid. I figure once the people at the top found out the truth, they began using you as some sort of psychic trouble shooter. Sending you to various hotspots for your take on the situation. Right?"

Joan suppresses a smile. It was an impressive guess. How could Agent Bauer know that her gifts are spiritual, and that she works for someone much higher than the president. Joan takes the way out offered her...

"Agent Bauer, here's the thing, I'm not at liberty to confirm or deny anything you just said."

Jack breathes a sigh of relief. Joan's non-answer is just what he was hoping for. To his mind, a simple yes or no would have been suspicious, but now Jack feels reassured. He isn't a man who can tolerate loose ends, and now that he has Joan pegged in a catagory he can understand, his world makes sense again.

"Understood. And just in case you really don't know about Smith, he got away. We have a report of him heading for South America, but he's an expert at elluding capture. Who knows if we will ever get him?"

"But with Smith on the loose, will Erica and Stevie be safe, even in witness protection?"

"How do you know about that?"

Joan smiles. "I can neither confirm or deny...ya know."

Jack chuckles. "Okay. Be assured the U. S. Marshals run a tight organization. Your friends will be safe. Well, I just wanted to say thanks and good-bye." (Jack starts to walk away, but pauses.) "And Miss Girardi, the next time you organize some black-ops commando raid, a little heads-up would be appreciated. The massive clean up, and keeping it all out of the news, has been a logistical nightmare."

Joan shrugs. "Not my department."

Jack shakes his head and walks away. Joan sighs as she remembers from yesterday the true way she learned Erica and Stevie were in witness protection...

Joan was walking on the beach, trying to avoid people and trying to not let the accusing voices in her head drive her insane when she realized someone was blocking her path... Dylan. Despite her misery, she could not help but smile.

"Hey, I thought you had forgotten about me."

Dylan resonded, "I had some loose ends to tie up before I was free to talk to you."

"Stevie?"

"She and her mother have gone into witness protection. Alice/Erica/Brenda will have yet another new name."

"Did Stevie ask...?"

"If I would come with her? No. I think with this change ahead of her, Stevie finally had to admit that our relationship would never work out."

"Because...she realizes that she loves you far more than you love her?"

Dylan nodded. "I guess so. I did love Stevie, but not to the extent that she deserved in a life partner."

"Yeah, that's important." Joan said, feeling sad because she knew where this was leading. Even the voices seem to know, and they mocked her.

Suddenly, Dylan put his arms around Joan and hugged her tightly. Joan was momentarily startled, but realized Dylan wasn't the type to make a quick, crude pass. He sensed her misery, and he was comforting her. Joan hugged back as tears flowed from her eyes. She seemed to draw strength from Dylan's embrace, and even the voices ebbed away...

"Let's find a place to sit." Dylan suggested as he led her to a nearby bench. As they sat together, Dylan holding her hand, Joan sensed what he was going to do, but she made no attempt to stop him. We must all play our part in life's little dramas.

"Joan, how do I begin? You know that I fell in love with you the first time we met. That hasn't changed. All of these months, I've tried desperately to keep you off of my mind, but you were never away from the center of my heart. My time with Stevie proved to me that no other girl, no matter how wonderful, can take your place in my heart. Without you, I am incomplete. I love you, Joan."

Joan placed her hand along side Dylan's face, and they shared a tender kiss. "Dylan, you know I love you too."

In response, Dylan dropped down on one knee, and from his pocket he removed a jeweler's box - ring size. Joan could sense his honest, intense love for her, his high hopes and the fear that this would not go as he dreamed. Still, he had to try...

"Joan, my heart is yours. Will you marry me?"

Joan paused, knowing the response she must make, but finding it almost impossible to say. Here was this great guy with the body of a Greek god, the looks of a movie star, rolling in money and with a love so strong, he would worship her forever. Why shouldn't she say, yes? Dylan opened the box, revealing an incredibly impressive diamond. Wow, he was really making this hard.

"Dylan..."

Dylan Hunter sighed, knowing all from her tone, but he waited. We must all play out our part in life's dramas.

Joan continued, "I will always love you. In high school, you were a very important part of my life, and I have always thought of you with great fondness... Oh hell, I might as well be honest. Nearly every naughty fantasy I've had for the last two years has been about you. If you were asking me to have a casual fling, I really would consider it. But I know you, and you would never settle just for that."

Dylan closed the ring box and returned to the bench. "Maybe I could."

"No, you would just be hoping that passion and time together would make me change my mind."

"It might. Joan, I don't care about you and Mick...well, okay I care, but it doesn't change how I feel about you. Just because things ended badly with him, doesn't mean it wouldn't be wonderful between us."

"I'm sure it would. I'm absolutely certain that if we hooked up, or even lived together, we would be amazingly happy for a year...maybe two."

"And then?"

"Once the passion cooled, we would be stuck with the truth. We love each other unequally, just like you and Stevie. We are two people on divergent life paths, and there wouldn't be enough in common between us to keep us together. In time the relationship would be strained, and resentment would settle in. For you, because I didn't love you back as intensely and for me, because that would make me feel guilty. It would end badly between us. We both would be hurt, and I don't want that kind of bitterness to be our legacy. Please...tell me you understand."

Dylan stood, towering over Joan on the bench, but in Joan's eyes he had never looked so vulnerable.

"I guess there's nothing left to say. I know a lot of what you said is true, but you got one thing wrong, Joan. I would never resent you, no matter how things were between us. If we were together, every day I would joyously thank God that you were in my life, because I would know...there is no other woman on earth whom I could love so deeply. I pray life is good for you Joan, and know, you will always be the only one for me. Goodbye, my love."

Dylan turned and walked away, fighting the tears and trying to retain some dignity. Joan knew he was speaking the truth. He wouldn't live as a monk, but for the rest of his life, Dylan Hunter would never commit his heart to another. As Dylan walked down the beach, it took all of Joan's willpower not to call him back. They could be happy, for a time. After so many hard years, didn't she deserve some happiness? All it would cost would be a painful slice of Dylan's soul... Sigh. And hey, didn't she deserve what Dylan said? To have someone in her life that she would joyously thank God for every day? Joan cried...

And back in the train station, Joan is crying again. Someone offers her a handkerchief. Joan turns and sees Goth Kid God...

"Hello Joan. I am sorry you are so sad."

Joan accepts the handkerchief and wipes her tears. "Yeah, as vacations go, so far this one sucks."

"I know it has not been the restful time of recreation you had hoped for, but at least you have some good things to remember. You have witnessed the completion of the ripples set in motion when I first had you touch Stevie Marx's life."

"Yeah, she was reunited with her mother, and they will be together now."

"And because of the ripples, those 40,000 people who would have been killed or wounded at Dodger Stadium have been spared that fate - including Elaine Lishack, Dana Tuchman and their daughter Emily."

"At the cost of 320 human souls condemned to hell."

"Joan..."

"I know. Their free will choices decided where they would end up. But it was me who decided the how and the when of their fate."

"And because of the guilt you feel, you have let those poor souls torment you for a week as they call out to you from hell. Joan, you know you have the authority to silence those voices. Why haven't you?"

Joan stares at the floor, weeping and refusing to answer. Goth Kid sighs. "I know you feel you deserve punishment, but there is no condemnation from me. Joan, one of the reasons I choose you to be my instrument is because I knew you could make the hard choices, and that you would not take them lightly. If you will not silence your accusers, then I will..."

Suddenly the voices stop, and Joan feels an enormous weight lift from her soul. It had been like standing next to an unending loud noise. You don't realize how oppresive it is until it stops. Joan sighs with relief, and softly whispers...

"Thank you."

"You are welcome, but I know you are still uneasy."

"The voices may be gone, but I know the fate of those souls. They were people who could have repented of their ways. In time, some of them might have been saved if they had been given the chance to change. Now, through me and the monsters I sent their way, they are in hell forever. How do I forget that? And how do I ignore what will befall me because of my free will choice? I know your law - as you sew, so shall you reap. I have sewed violence and death into my own life. Haven't I?"

Goth Kid God hesitates, looking sad. "Yes, but that reaping is mitigated by the thousands of lives you saved."

"Completely mitigated?"

"Well, no. Joan..."

"I know. You would spare me this if you could, but not even God violates God's law. Will it be...bad?"

"I will do all that I can to ease this burdensome future, but yes Joan, the other side will make certain that it is...bad."

Joan nods. "Well, que sera sera. Should I cancel my plans and just go home?"

"You asked for time off this summer, and it is yours if you want. I would like to see you enjoy yourself, Joan. Please try."

Joan shrugs. "I guess Frisco can't be as bad as what happened here, and I am looking forward to seeing Adam again. Okay, vacation mode continues... Uh, one request, if I may... I know you judge by the heart of a person, and that vampires have been condemned, but Mick..."

"Joan, Mick St. John may be the best of a bad breed, but what he has done as a vampire..."

"Was mostly out of his control, especially when he was first turned. Besides, you judge the heart, and Mick has a good one. Please?"

"No one's future is set in stone, not even a vampire's. As for Mick's ultimate fate...? That is not for you to know, but I will keep in mind your plea on his behalf. Enjoy your train trip, Joan. The views of the coastline are spectacular, even if I do say so myself."

With a brief smile and nod, Goth Kid God walks away, giving the backhanded wave. Joan watches him leave until he is out of sight. She is not surprised when she quickly feels an intense evil approaching. Joan shakes her head. The devil always keeps his distance until Numero Uno has left the building...

Joan turns, searching the crowd for the devil's version of Goth Kid. Beelzebub likes nothing better than imitating God. To Joan's surprise, she has difficulty spotting the adversary. You would think he would stand out... Joan's senses hone in on one particular 'man'. He is tall, slender and well tanned. His hair is short, neatly combed and he wears a three piece navy blue suit. He looks like guy applying for a job at an insurance company.

Joan chuckles. "Anti-Goth?"

The devil smiles. "The Goths belong to me, and when the other one imitates them, he mocks me."

"So you mock back by appearing in this version? Beelzebub, that's weird, even for you." (To Joan's surprise, the devil laughs.) "You seem to be in a good mood."

"Oh Joan, I am in a very good mood. Just over a year ago, I gave you the opportunity to withdraw from the endless spiritual battle, and the other one even agreed to let you go - although he very much wanted you in his service. You chose to ignore my advice, and now I have the chance to pay you back. What's the old saying? Revenge is a dish best served cold."

"Considering where your headquarters is, what would you know about cold?"

The devil laughs again. "Yes, I get why my counterpart likes you, Joan. You are so marvelously unaffected by those so vastly superior to you, and what they can do to you!"

"Whatever."

The devil frowns. "I'll tell you 'whatever'. It is rare when I get the chance to attack one of your kind. You are usually too well protected. But due to your recent actions, and by the way, thanks for the addition to my kingdom - you have an opening in your armor."

"Mitigated."

The devil shrugs. "Okay, a small opening. But I don't need much to bring misery and suffering into your life."

"And is that why you are here? To attack the chink in my armor?"

"Noo...not today. I want to contemplate your fate. I want to savor what I'm going to do to you, girl-warrior. But believe, I will find a way to bring you more unhappiness than your pathetic soul can endure." Chuckling, the devil walks away.

Joan frowns. Oh hell no, he's not walking off with the last word. "Hey Bub! I've read the book. Just remember, in the end, you lose!"

Joan can feel the devil's mood shift, and he responds with a farewell gesture of his own - a very rude one. Joan laughs as she hears her train being called. She picks up her bags and heads for the train. She isn't afraid of making the devil mad. There exists no mercy in that being. Groveling and begging won't ease his hand one iota, and at least she has the satisfaction of spoiling his mood...

Meanwhile, off to the bay area and a reunion with her...boyfriend? Ready or not, here I come, Adam.

THE END

Please review.

(Spolier footnote: This story takes place about two months before the start of the only season of Moonlight. It is before the reappearance of the girl 'Beth', now grown into the beautiful woman who is destined to be the love of Mick's life. It is also before Mick learned that his wife Coraline survived the fire, and before her return with the ultimate enticement to win him back - the cure for being a vampire.)


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